


Summertime & Butterflies

by triceratopz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triceratopz/pseuds/triceratopz
Summary: Olivia Hayes is a thirty-one year old teacher from Canada. Harry Styles is one-quarter of the biggest band in the world. Their worlds couldn't be further apart, but after a memorable first encounter, could anything keep them apart?





	1. Chapter One

“Are you alright?”

Olivia Hayes opened her eyes and raised her head, looking blearily at the British man seated beside her. They hadn’t spoken a word for the duration of the flight – save for the odd ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’ when one of them encroached into the other’s space – but he looked legitimately concerned as she braced her hand on the seatback in front of her and tried to tuck her head as close to her lap as she could.

“I’m okay,” Olivia lied, squeezing her eyes shut again as the plane jolted, simulating a roller coaster drop. “I’m… I’m just not a good flyer,” she added, her voice low as she silently willed the lunch tossing around in her stomach to stay put. She’d spent the extra money on a first class seat, hoping seat 2A would somehow be in a turbulence-free zone. But so far, the only good thing about the seat was the bowl of warm nuts - warm nuts that she would likely be expelling in her lap somewhere over the California coast.

“You’re doing fine,” he assured her, though Olivia noticed he’d shifted his body closer to the aisle, away from her. Taking the airsick bag from the pocket in front of him, he stuck it in Olivia’s pocket – the spot now vacated as she was clutching her own bag with a death grip.

Olivia didn’t acknowledge the gesture. The plane had taken another dip and had she been brave enough to look out the window, she would have seen the dark, towering clouds forming over the ocean, directly between the jet and Los Angeles International Airport. Judging by the size of the massive swell the plane had no choice but to fly through, the rough descent into California would be getting worse before it got better.

As the plane turned and began to descent towards La La Land, the plane lurched as though it were on a slide, before being replaced by the feeling of climbing. Against her better judgement, she squinted one eye open and peered at the TV screen on the seatback, documenting their descent. She was convinced the elevation would be somewhere around the one hundred feet mark, but when she saw the four digit number across the screen, she felt her stomach jump yet again. An eight thousand feet drop into the Pacific Ocean would hurt, to say the least.

Olivia wasn’t the only one having difficulties with the turbulence – frightened cries could be heard coming from the rows of seats behind her. She ignored them, focussing on steady breathing and not getting sick instead. She placed the top of the airsick bag over her mouth and breathed into it, attempting to bring her body back to a normal pH level. Olivia wasn’t sure if it would help, but it gave her something to focus on.

“Oh, God,” Olivia moaned out, unaware as to how loud her moans were. In her mind, she was nearly inaudible. In reality, the entire first class cabin was privy to her profanity. “Oh, shit!” The plane took another dive through the clouds and Olivia ducked her head, spewing out more four letter words. Her mind was racing, though the thoughts were incomprehensible to her. She felt as though she was having an out of body experience – her actions and words weren’t her, they were just reactions to a situation. As though to prove this, as the plane tumbled through the dark clouds, Olivia found herself clamping onto the strange man beside her. She linked her arms around his, not unaware but not caring either. It was at that moment when she truly believed the plane would crash and they would die.

Surprisingly, he was a good sport and didn’t push her away – perhaps worried that any sudden movement could cause her stomach to erupt. He let Olivia keep a grip on his arm, her airsick bag tucked closely between her knees. She must have been a sight to see – and hear – but all she cared about was getting through the hellish trip.

“Oh, Jesus,” she groaned, releasing his arm with one hand and grabbing her bag. She placed it over her mouth, breathing into it again. She could feel the saliva building against her cheeks and swallowed hard, trying to push the feeling of nausea away.

“It’s okay,” he told her, sitting up straighter and moving away from Olivia – as much as he could with her arm still looped around his. “Just… just open the bag up more. It’s not open. It’s not –“

He cut himself off as Olivia pulled away from him, leaned forward and got sick in the bag. Mostly. It wasn’t until she coughed a final time into the bag and sat up straight that she realised he was wiping his jeans with the tiny airline napkin. Feeling a wet residue on her hands, she was mortified at the realisation that she’d gotten sick on the stranger. To make matters worse, as her mind cleared and she came back to Earth, she remembered she’d just had herself wrapped around the man.

“Oh, my God,” she said, her voice caked with mortification. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I have wipes…” She leaned forward, reaching for her bag, but as the lane jumped again, so did her stomach. She hardly had time to get her bag to her face, forgetting momentarily about the sanitizing wipes in her purse.

“It’s okay,” he told Olivia, making due with the napkin. His voice wasn’t tight with anger, and if Olivia hadn’t been vomiting, she’d have heard a slight chuckle in his raspy voice. And despite her prior worries, all she was hoping for now was a crash.

The plane broke through the clouds and the raindrops covered the tiny windows. The cabin brightened but it was still nearly impossible to see through the rain. With her eyes still squeezed shut, Olivia wouldn’t have seen the impending land anyway.

Unfortunately, with a final hard bump against the tarmac, the plane landed. Many of the passengers cheered, but Olivia was silent with humiliation. She knew she would laugh about this at some far point in the future, but she didn’t think that moment would be coming any time soon. Getting sick was embarrassing enough, but all over a stranger? She wanted to die.

As the plane taxied towards the gate, Olivia pulled her bag onto her lap and attempted to clean up as best she could. After wiping her hands with the wipes, she silently thrust the package in the man’s direction, though avoiding his eyes like the plague. He took the package from her and let out a snort chuckle.

“It’s really okay,” he told her, pulling a few wipes out and rubbing them against his jeans. “I mean, it’s not like it was on purpose.” He looked at Olivia, so intently that she felt his eyes on her and she looked up at him.

“Was it?” he asked, furrowing his brow at her before breaking out into a grin. Dimples. He had dimples. Olivia had never wanted an asteroid to slam into the planet as badly as she did at that moment.

“No!” Olivia exclaimed, feeling her face flush. “I told you I’m not a good flyer…” she mumbled, her face getting hotter as she watched him continue to clean her vomit off his jeans. The only solace was that she’d turned down a glass of red wine at takeoff. Otherwise, the spot on his jeans would be redder than her Olivia’s face.

“Yeah, I’ve figured that out,” he told Olivia, the dimpled grin still on his face. “I’m very intuitive,” he added, seeming to enjoy teasing her about the unfortunate event.

“Oh my God… stop,” Olivia told him, covering her face with her hands. “I said I was sorry!”

He laughed again, a throaty chuckle. “I think I’m allowed to tease,” he told her, gesturing to his stained jeans. With a final wipe against his pants, he tossed the garbage into the bag the fight attendant was carrying down the aisle and turned towards Olivia, hands out, as though he was going to throw her bag away for her.

She gave him a curious look, holding her bag closer to her chest. “It’s okay, it’s gross,” she told him, standing up and leaning towards the aisle, dropping the bag into the stewardess’ bag. Sitting back down, she crossed her arms across her chest and stared out the window as the terminal came into view.

“Jokes aside, are you feeling okay?” he asked her after a few moments. “I have some jelly beans…” he added, trailing off as he reached under the seat, grabbing his bag. He pulled out a half-empty bag of jelly beans and held it towards Olivia. He looked closer at the bag and a sheepish grin crossed his face.

“Well, I have green and purple jelly beans,” he corrected. “I may have eaten the rest.”

Olivia uttered a chuckle and accepted the bag of jelly beans. “Green’s my favourite,” she informed him, shaking a few candies out of the bag before handing it back to him. “Thank you,” she added sincerely.

“Oh, it’s the least I could do,” he answered as the plane bumped against the terminal. The flight attendant walked past their row and stood with her back to the first class cabin, keeping the coach passengers at bay. Olivia stood up, relieved that she was in the second row and not the thirty-second row. He stood up as well and stepped into the aisle so Olivia could get by. Before she could reach up for her suitcase, he’d opened the overhead bin and pulled her suitcase down.

“It was lovely to meet you,” he told her pleasantly. His words weren’t sarcastic and Olivia appreciated his sincerity. Accepting the suitcase, she allowed herself a smile at the stranger. He was being kinder than he had to be.

“Thank you,” she said. “You as well,” she added before turning and making her way down the aisle. She’d survived. And, more importantly, she’d never have to see the man she puked on again.


	2. Chapter Two

Despite the storm still pummeling Los Angeles, stepping out of the airport was, quite literally, a breath of fresh air for Olivia. She inhaled deeply, tugging her suitcase along behind her as she perused the cars pulling up alongside the curb to pick up waiting flyers. Her sister drove a white Lexus, but apparently, so did 90% of Los Angeles. Olivia was about to call her sister again – maybe she had a distinguishable rear view mirror decoration – when a white SUV pulled up beside the curb, horn blaring obnoxiously.

“Hi!” Stephanie Hayes-Gilbert squealed out the open window, barely stopping before Olivia pulled open the passenger door. Grinning at her younger sister, Olivia heaved her suitcase into the back seat and plopped down in the passenger seat.

“Hi!” Olivia echoed excitedly, her voice sounding exactly like her sister’s. She reached her arm out awkwardly to hug her sister, embracing her for just a moment before the cars behind them started beeping their horns impatiently. Stephanie’s arm poked through the open sunroof, flipping the people behind her the bird before shifting the car back into drive. Olivia snickered at Stephanie’s reaction.

“Well, Toto, I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Olivia teased. In their small home town in Canada, the only time anyone flipped someone off was if it was a well-known friend and done in jest. But Stephanie had been in Los Angeles for a few years now; it was only natural that she would pick up a sassy city attitude.

“People drive like shit down here,” Stephanie muttered, weaving in and out of lanes, her foot pressing firmly on the gas pedal. As Stephanie cut off a taxi and answered his horn with a long blare of her own, Olivia couldn’t help but notice that the “people” Stephanie had mentioned included her.

“So!” Stephanie continued brightly, not noticing her sister’s tight grip on the handle above the glove compartment. “Spring break, finally! How’s this year been, anyway?” she asked, glancing sideways at her sister, waiting for her reaction.

Olivia felt Stephanie’s gaze and turned to meet her eyes. “It’s been nutty,” she answered, breaking eye contact after just a moment. “Not really enjoying this group of kids as much as last year’s group, but…” She shrugged, fiddling with the chunky bracelet on her wrist. “Win some, lose some.”

Stephanie was silent, concentrating on maneuvering her car into the proper lane. “And… Ryan?” she asked.

Olivia let out a short laugh. “Steph, we broke up like a year ago,” she reminded her sister. “Do you honestly think I’m still sitting around every night, pining for him? Give me some credit!”

“Well, Mom said –“

“Mom doesn’t know everything!” Olivia retorted, her voice louder than she had intended. “She tries to set me up with, like… her co-worker’s kids. Guys I have nothing in common with! Like, you remember that weird Robert kid from elementary school? The one who would pull his hair out and put the tufts in his pencil case?”

“No!” Stephanie exclaimed, laughing. “Why, Mom?”

“Because he’s single,” answered Olivia. “The only pre-req for dating me, apparently. She needs to just calm down.”

“She’s just worried about you,” Stephanie reminded her sister gently. And though she wouldn’t admit it to Olivia, Stephanie was worried about her, too. Olivia had always been the bubbly sister, the outgoing life of the party. She’d spend her weekends on wine tours or river rafting or learning to ski. Olivia had never been one for sitting around night after night, spending weekends curled up on the couch. She was full of life and adventure. But since breaking up with her boyfriend of three years nearly a year ago, Olivia had fallen into a life of boring routine. Her Instagram feed, once filled with smiling group shots and views from atop a mountain, was now filled with wine glass selfies and cats. Oh, the cats.

Olivia sighed, exasperated. “Let’s just not, okay?” she asked her sister. “I don’t want to spend my vacation talking about Ryan. Or dating. Or my eggs shrivelling up before she gets a grandkid out of me.”

Stephanie laughed. She knew how their mother could be – small town, old-fashioned and a mother of three before she was twenty-five. She had her thoughts and opinions on life, and Olivia’s life – thirty-one, unmarried and independent – wasn’t familiar to her.

“Deal,” Stephanie answered, reaching over and gripping her sister’s hand. “And hey! Speaking of grandkids, I found a willing sitter for my Lucifers! There’s this awesomely shitty pub over in Garden Grove. It reminds me of the Horn back home. They have pool, super fatty pub food and creepy old men drinking pints at the bar.” Stephanie grinned at her sister. “Totally our kind of place!”

Olivia laughed, relieved that her sister had a plan for them tonight. Olivia – or, ‘Auntie Libby’ as the kids called her – loved five-year-old Mia, three-year-old Violet and two-year-old Jase, but coming from her quiet bachelorette pad, she needed to be weaned into her two week stay with her sister and her kids. A girl’s night out at a seedy dive bar would be perfect.

“Sounds amazing,” Olivia answered. “Do the bathroom doors lock? Because it’s not a dive bar if you pee with the door closed!”

“We’ll just bust a lock,” Stephanie determined. “Tell ‘em we’re nostalgic for our poor, vacated shit bar.”

“I miss that place,” Olivia said wistfully, remembering the old hotel bar in their hometown. The bar had been purchased by an out of towner, who ran it into the ground and closed several years later. It was dark, dirty and smoky, but for the residents of the small Canadian town, it was their Cheers.

“I miss home,” said Stephanie with a pout. “I keep hoping Jeff gets traded to Vancouver but so far, not even close.”

Olivia chuckled. “Do you really think Calgary-born Jeff would be psyched to play for the Canucks?” she asked. “Plus, P.S.? They suck!”

Stephanie scoffed and dismissed Olivia’s comment with a wave of her hand. “Minor details,” she answered. “Plus, Jeff’s so good, he would totally make that team win the Cup!”

Stephanie’s confidence in her husband’s hockey skills was cute, but Olivia couldn’t help laughing at the comment. “I don’t think even Jeff could make that team a contender,” she told her sister. “But, it might get me to cheer for them!” she added sarcastically, knowing full well that nothing could make the diehard Blackhawks fan cheer for the Canucks.

A few minutes later, Stephanie slowed down and pulled into the driveway of a beautiful Cape Cod style home in Manhattan Beach. The home boasted five bedrooms, five bathrooms and was only a few blocks from the beach. The backyard was beautifully landscaped and perfect for a gaggle of kids to play make-believe, or to sunbathe and drink copious amounts of margaritas – which was exactly what Olivia was planning on doing with her vacation.

 

*~*~*~*

“Okay, what about this one?” Stephanie asked, emerging from her walk-in closet with yet another outfit change. She paused in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflections as she turned from side to side, examining the sixth or seventh outfit from all angles.

Olivia glanced up her phone and rolled her eyes at her sister. “I don’t care,” she answered honestly, her voice bordering on whiny. Having been dressed simply in leggings and a tummy-hiding baggy top for the last half hour, Olivia was growing tired of her sister’s indecisiveness. “But that shirt’s too fancy,” she added after a moment. “Keep the pants, put on that black stripy shirt, and one of your gazillion black jackets, and let’s go.”

Stephanie shot a pair of finger guns in Olivia’s direction and clicked her tongue. “Excellent!” She determined, disappearing back into the closet.

Olivia uttered a sigh of relief and rolled off the bed before stepping in front of the mirror herself. She sighed again. She’d always been curvier than her sisters, but after her break-up with Ryan, she found comfort in ice cream, wine and her sofa, and the extra pounds had settled around her midsection. She wished the extra weight could have at least found her ass or breasts, but Olivia couldn’t be that lucky. Now her size ten jeans were too tight and hanging like-new in her closet, and leggings were life.

“Okay, let’s go wish the sitter God Speed and skedaddle!” Stephanie told her sister, swatting her on the bottom before prancing out of the bedroom. Olivia followed Stephanie down the stairs and sat on the bench in the foyer, pulling her boots over her calves, while Stephanie fed the sitter a slew of last-minute instructions. Finally, the two of them were seated in Stephanie’s car, heading east to the seedy bar an hour away.

When Stephanie pulled into the parking lot of the pub, Olivia was immediately convinced Ray’s Tavern must be closed. Aside from a rusted old Chevy pickup – which could have been parked since the turn of the century – Stephanie’s car was the only one in the lot.

“It’s open,” Stephanie assured Olivia, sensing her trepidation. “Most people probably just got a cab, or an Uber, or something.”

“I’ll bet they did,” answered Olivia with a chuckle, not convinced the bar was filled with Uber passengers, but not caring either. Velvet roped clubs as seen on The Hills weren’t her style. She had a feeling this seedy bar would be perfect.


	3. Chapter Three

“Oh my God!” Olivia exclaimed, laughing at herself as she watched the cue ball bounce down the table, widely avoiding any of the striped balls scattered across the cloth. She shrugged at her sister, who was also laughing, before taking a swig of her beer. “Good thing we don’t play by the rules, eh?”

“We don’t even know the rules,” Stephanie reminded her, taking her own shot and easily sinking one of Olivia’s balls. “Like, what’s actually supposed to happen now?”

Olivia shrugged. “You should keep going, so I can keep drinking,” she told her with a smirk. “But, I think it means it’s my turn.”

“Works for me,” answered Stephanie, slurping her vodka drink through the straw. As Olivia lined up her shot and managed to get the proper ball in the pocket, Stephanie examined the jukebox, trying to decide what 90s country song would blast through the bar next.

“Remember this one?” Stephanie chuckled, pressing a combination of buttons on the machine. A moment later, the twangy chords from Shake the Sugar Tree erupted from the speakers, and it wasn’t long before both girls were belting the lyrics into their pool cues.

“I’ll shaa-aa-ke the sugar tree, til I feel your love fallin’… all-lll-lll around me!” The sister’s voices were loud, off-key and filled with giggles. They were so enthralled with their attempts at singing that they didn’t notice anyone else had joined them in the small pool room. It wasn’t until Olivia felt the presence of someone standing near her side that she looked up from the pool table. A man in his twenties was standing beside her, his lips pursed together in a cheeky smirk.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the man said, his accented voice sounding solemn but his hint of a grin telling otherwise. “But I’d like to call next.” He placed his hand on the corner of the table, setting down what Olivia assumed was a quarter. But when he moved his hand, Olivia began to laugh.

“What is that?” she chuckled, pointing at the beer cap the man had placed on the table.

He shrugged, looking both sheepish and charming at the same time. “I didn’t have a quarter,” he explained.

“Then I guess you don’t have next,” Olivia teased, taking a drink from her bottle. “Hey, Steph, do you have a quarter?” She asked innocently, lining up her shot again.

Stephanie gasped. “I just might!” she exclaimed, feigning surprise. She stuck her hand in her pocket and grinned triumphantly as she pulled out not one, but two coins.

“I call this one Next,” she continued, placing one coin down on the table with a flourish. “And this one is Mr. Next-Next!”

“I just thought you might feel like you owe us next,” the man replied, “seeing as we’ve had to listen to you sing all night. It’s only fair,” he added, his voice taking on the same teasing tone the sister’s had. “Or we could play doubles,” he added before either of the sisters could counter with their own burn.

Stephanie pointed at the man, to the vacant spot beside him and back again, indicating that he was by himself. “We’re not seeing doubles yet, honey,” she told him playfully, taking another drink.

“Yet,” he countered with another cheeky grin. “Now, finish up your riveting game before I steal your quarters.”

“Push-y,” stated Olivia, but obliging as she finally took her shot. The man settled into one of the stools, sipping on his drink as he watched Olivia’s stance with amusement.

“Ay, your quarter didn’t work, mate!” the man called out as Olivia scratched the ball she was aiming for. She looked up to see who the man was talking to and her eyes widened when she realised she was face-to-face with the same man she’d thrown up on just hours earlier.

“You must not have been charming… enough…” the second man answered, pausing as he made eye contact with Olivia. She could tell he recognised her immediately and she felt her face heat up at the memory. She took a long drink and silently cursed the Patron Saint of… whoever made her mortifying moment return.

“Hey,” the second man continued, greeting Olivia with a knowing chuckle. “Well… long time, no see, isn’t it?” He asked, smiling his dimpled grin. Her face still felt warm but she matched his smile. It was rather infectious.

“It’s been a few,” she agreed, awkwardly running her hand through her hair before breaking eye contact with him.

“You two know one another?” the first man asked curiously, looking back and forth between Olivia and his friend.

“We, erm… We met on the plane,” the first man answered, giving his friend an intent look, telling him without telling him that she was that girl.

“Oh!” his friend exclaimed. “That girl! Well, that’s one way to be memorable,” he added teasingly.

“What did you do on the plane?” asked Stephanie incredulously. Olivia wasn’t exactly the type to join the Mile High Club with a stranger, no matter how attractive. Stephanie, on the other hand…

“Nothing,” Olivia answered quickly, her voice overlapping with the first man’s.

“She was just a dazzling conversationalist,” he told Stephanie charmingly. “She… spilled her guts to me in ways I have never experienced.”

His choice of words caused his friend to let out a loud guffaw, and Olivia covered her mouth to hide her smile. Stephanie frowned, unamused with being out of the know. Olivia didn’t want her embarrassing moment to be a damper on her and Stephanie’s night out, so she rolled her eyes and blew her bangs off her forehead.

“I threw up on him on the plane so can we please play doubles now?” she stated, uttering the words as quickly as she could.

Stephanie snickered, still looking unimpressed as the first man laughed loudly. “So?” she countered, sinking the last of her balls. “She’s thrown up on me on every road trip we’ve ever taken. Talk to me when you’ve got a lap full of undigested cherry pits in the back of a Cutlass in July.” She nudged her sister playfully, joining in on the laughter as she sunk the eight ball, winning the game.

“Oh Jesus, Stephanie,” moaned Olivia, covering her eyes with the palm of her hand. She knew the comments and laughter were all in jest, but she really just wanted to play pool. “And you can’t even let me win!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the second man said, giving Olivia another smile as he scooted off the stool and selected his own pool cue. “Still keen on doubles?” he wondered, his question directed at Olivia.

Despite her embarrassment, Olivia nodded. “For sure,” she answered, pulling the triangle off the hook and sticking the last of her balls in the centre. “But we don’t play by the proper rules.”

“It’s alright, love. Neither do we,” the first man cracked, his comment open to interpretation as he continued to fill the triangle. Olivia snickered, leaning against the window and bending her knee, the sole of her foot resting against the wall.

“Did we miss something, or are they married?” the second man asked Olivia, leaning on the wall beside her and nodding towards Stephanie and his friend, who were arguing over the proper placement of the pool balls.

Olivia let out a quiet giggle. “I’m insulted I wasn’t invited,” she answered, turning her head slightly and looking at the man out of the corner of her eye. She was certain his jawline could cut through glass as though it were butter.

He laughed. “You and me both,” he agreed, taking a sip of his drink. “So,” he continued after a few moments. “Do you have a name, or can I come up with one on my own?”

Olivia laughed, peeling at the label on her bottle. “Depends what you can come up with, I suppose,” she challenged him.

He pursed his lips together and crossed his arms across his chest, appearing deep in thought, “I think you look like a… Chad,” he determined, that infectious smile crossing his lips again.

“You’re exactly right!” Olivia exclaimed. “How incredible! But, for fun, you can call me Olivia.”

He grinned widely, as though her name brought up an inside joke she wasn’t privy to. “Olivia,” he repeated, his British accent causing a slight R sound at the end of her name. “That’s a great name,” he told her, his grin still apparent.

“I’ll keep it for a while,” she told him. “So, can I call you Chad?” she asked, turning her attention away momentarily as the first man broke the rack – rather poorly, Olivia was pleased to see.

“Absolutely not,” he advised her teasingly. He stuck his hand towards Olivia. “I’m Harry,” he said as their hands connected.

“Way better than Chad,” Olivia told him decidedly. “Nice to meet you. Officially,” she added with a slight shake of her head. She pointed across the table where Stephanie was taking her turn. “My sister, Stephanie,” she told him. Hearing her name, Stephanie looked up.

Harry waved at her. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he called over to her. “That’s Louis,” he told Olivia and Stephanie, nodding in his friend’s direction. “Lou,” he added. “This is Olivia.” He said her name with the same tone as before, and Olivia felt she was missing something.

Louis chuckled and gestured for Harry to take his turn. “I live for you, I long for you, Olivia,” he sang out. “Hey, hey!” he added, taking Harry’s spot next to her.

Olivia furrowed her brow at his words. “Is that a song?” she asked, wondering why she hadn’t heard it before. “I’ve never heard it.”

“It is,” Louis answered. “You ought to give it a listen. It’s pretty okay.”

Olivia wasn’t sure why his statement caused him and Harry to both snicker and she was having a hard time determining whether or not they were making fun of her. She didn’t know what was so funny about her name, but told herself to brush it off – clearly, the two men had been friends for a long time and had silly inside jokes, just like Olivia and her own friends.

“Maybe I will,” answered Olivia, chalking up her cue for her own turn. “Who sings it?”

“I can’t remember,” answered Harry quickly. If Olivia hadn’t been paying attention to her cue, she would have noticed the stern look he was shooting to Louis.

“I’ll find out and let you know,” Louis told Olivia, grinning cheekily at Harry.

“Nice shot,” Harry commented, ignoring Louis and watching Olivia sink one of her balls.

If Olivia hadn’t been playing pool with two attractive strangers, she would have giddily jumped up and down at the shot that came across as completely intentional. Instead, she only allowed herself a wide grin. “Thanks.” She answered, attempting to remain modest but doing a poor job of hiding her pleasure.

“Oh, that’s my phone,” Stephanie stated suddenly, jumping up and grabbing her phone from the table. She looked at the caller ID and groaned loudly. “Shit, it’s the sitter. I’ll be right back,” she told the others, disappearing towards the rest rooms.

“Is your sister married?” asked Louis once Stephanie was out of earshot. “Please say no!”

Olivia nodded sympathetically. “Yep,” she told him, sitting down at the table to wait for her partner. “With three kids.”

“Ugh, no, don’t tell me that!” Louis groaned, dropping dramatically into a chair across from Olivia. He paused, wiggling his eyebrows in Harry’s direction. “Are you married?”

Olivia had to laugh at his brazenness. “I’m not, no,” she answered, her eyes meeting Harry’s for a brief moment. “I, uh… have four cats,” she added, immediately wincing. Crazy cat ladies weren’t exactly a hot commodity. She decided to refrain from telling them she also enjoyed chamomile tea and knitting.

“So you’re single,” Louis determined, the cheeky smirk gracing his face again. Harry massaged his forehead with his fingertips, resembling a mother who was at her wits’ end with her child. “Interesting,” Louis continued slowly, tapping his chin with his finger. Due to his tonality, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder what Harry had said to Louis about the girl who threw up on him.

“What are their names?” asked Harry loudly, attempting to change the subject. He stood at the head of the table between Louis and Olivia, as though he was unsure as to where to sit.

“My cats?” asked Olivia. She chuckled bashfully, feeling like a fool talking about her cats. But, Harry had asked. “Uhm… Ruby, Casper, Binx and… Puff Catty. Also known as P. Kitty.”

“P. Kitty!” Harry repeated, laughing loudly. His laugh was as infectious as his smile and even Louis chuckled at Puff Catty, even though he seemed less than impressed that his friend was asking a girl about her cat’s names.

“That’s quite original,” Harry added, pulling out the chair beside Olivia and settling in. As he adjusted the chair, Olivia noticed he’d inched it closer to her own. “Casper. You don’t hear that name too often.”

Olivia smiled, realising she was pleased that he’d decided to sit next to her. She wasn’t used to getting men’s attention. She was attractive enough – a bit soft in spots, but she was pretty – and her fun-loving attitude made drunk married men tell her they’d wished they found her before they got married. But she was always the friend, the buddy, the bubbly chick who would rather share pints with boys than bitch at them. She was often told by her sisters that her independence was intimating, though she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Besides, she told them, she didn’t want a man who was scared by a woman who had her life together.

“I’ll be honest, I wanted to name him Leonardo DiCatrio, but thought it was too common.” Olivia told him, giggling at her own joke. “I love puns,” she confessed with a shrug. She was still feeling a bit foolish, talking about her cats, but was happy she was getting an entertained reaction out of Harry.

“Liv!”

Olivia jumped suddenly, her sister’s sudden voice startling her. She turned to face Stephanie, who reached out and grabbed Olivia by the elbow. “Is everything okay?” Olivia asked, concerned by Stephanie’s outburst.

“Yeah, just come to the bathroom with me,” Stephanie urged, pulling on Olivia’s arm.

Olivia made a face, standing up and grabbing her purse. Stephanie had a tendency to be overdramatic and likely just needed a tampon. “Uhm… I’ll be right back,” Olivia said to Harry and Louis, hoping they would still be sitting at the table when she returned.

“We’ll be here,” answered Harry, standing up respectfully as the girls stepped out of the pool room. Olivia took a second glance at his gesture, surprised by what she saw. She thought manners like that only existed in the movies. It made Harry even more intriguing than Olivia was already finding him.

“Wait, we aren’t leaving, are we?” asked Olivia, stopping suddenly as Stephanie pushed open the entrance doors. “I said I’d be right back!”

“Shut up, we’re not leaving!” Stephanie hissed, gesturing for Olivia to step outside. “I have to show you something!”

Furrowing her brow curiously, Olivia followed her sister outside, watching as Stephanie unlocked her phone and scrolled through it. “What is it?” Olivia urged, suddenly worried that if she didn’t go back inside, some other girl would be sitting in her seat. She wasn’t sure why she cared – she didn’t even know Harry – but that was her seat.

“The babysitter just sent me this,” Stephanie told Olivia, thrusting her phone towards Olivia. Taking the phone, Olivia peered at the screen.

“What?” Olivia asked, squinting as she tried to understand what she was looking at. It was a blurry picture, but it was obvious the two girls in the picture were herself and Stephanie, and the two men in the picture were clearly Harry and Louis. The four of them were standing around the pool table in the pub they were visiting that very night. It was obvious another patron at the bar had taken the photo just minutes prior, but Olivia was confused.

“How did… I don’t get it,” she told her sister, handing her phone back to her. “Is your babysitter here? Why is she here? I don’t get it,” she repeated, her eyes still squinted as she tried to connect the dots in her mind.

“Read the text, dummy,” Stephanie told her, handing the phone back. Olivia scrolled through the messages, reading silently to herself until she came to the obvious part.

“One Direction?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Wait. What?”

Stephanie let out a laugh, more high-pitched than usual. “Apparently we’re hanging out with a boyband,” she told her sister, unable to control herself. “And we didn’t even know! How fucking old are we?”

“How the fuck does your babysitter know?” Olivia asked, shaking her head incredulously. “Like, are we on the internet now? Are my students gonna know?” she asked, suddenly mortified at the thought of her grade eleven and twelve students seeing her picture on the internet.

“You’re fine,” Stephanie reassured her sister, still giggling and sounding giddy at the development. “Lisa only knew it was us because of the outfits. Did you see the one waitress? She’s like barely twenty. She probably took the picture and posted it to Instagram or Snapbook or whatever.”

“This is so weird,” Olivia determined, running her hands through her hair. She hadn’t followed pop culture since her teen years, but working in a high school, she’d heard the name countless times. Was it Harry the girls always talked about? She couldn’t be sure. “What do we do?”

Stephanie gripped the door handle, ready to go back inside. “Go back inside?” she suggested. “That one’s really vibing on you. Wonder how jealous you could make your students,” she added with another laugh.

Olivia flushed at the thought of Harry vibing on her. Was he? Reading signs were far from her forte, but she felt even more apprehensive knowing that he was in a hugely successful boyband. She ran her tongue across her teeth nervously, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure, fat and boring.

“Let’s just go back in,” Stephanie urged. “They’re really nice…”

Olivia nodded slowly. “They are…” she agreed, tugging on her shirt and wishing she weighed about twenty pounds less. She felt a twist in the pit of her stomach, remembering how she’d been drinking high calorie beer and talking about her cats. Cool rock star, she was not.

“Wait, Steph,” Olivia whispered as her sister opened the door. “Let’s not say anything, okay? Like, it feels weird. They can tell us if they want to, right?”

Stephanie shrugged. “Sure,” she agreed, though already planning on breaking the promise. She led the way back to the pool room, being sure to flash a cocky smile at the waitress, who frowned and looked longingly into the pool room, obviously under strict orders to leave the boys alone.

“Oh my God, we’re back again!” Stephanie sang out, plopping down next to Louis and giving Olivia a knowing smirk. Olivia closed her eyes briefly, silently willing her sister to keep her mouth shut, before sitting back down in her seat.

“I hope you don’t mind but we ordered you another drink,” Harry told Olivia, smiling at her. That smile was killer. “We were optimistic you’d come back.”

“Well, we talked about leaving,” Stephanie told him, taking a drink and smiling coyly. “But we didn’t know what direction to take, so… we came back!”

Louis chuckled at her choice of words. “Cute,” he affirmed. “Did the little lass blow our cover?” he asked, nodding towards the young waitress.

“And my babysitter,” Stephanie told him. “Cool to know she’s searching you guys on Instagram instead of colouring with my kids,” she added teasingly.

“Sorry, love,” Louis teased back. “But we are slightly cooler than colouring.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me,” Stephanie sassed. She reached under her chair, fishing around for her purse. “Either of you guys smoke?” she wondered, pulling a pack out. “I’m a drinky-smoker, but I get lonely too!”

Louis stood up. “I’ll keep you company,” he told her. “Harry wants to know more about Olivia’s cats, anyway,” he added, his choice of words intended to be an innuendo. “After you,” he told Stephanie, flashing Harry a pair of finger guns before disappearing onto the patio.

“So…”


	4. Chapter Four

Harry let out a laugh. “So,” he echoed Olivia’s statement, taking a drink. Olivia felt awkward, sitting alone with a man she barely knew, but felt she should know due to his fame. She briefly wondered if she should apologise for not knowing who he was, but she got the feeling he and Louis liked that the sisters had no idea who they were.

“I have to apologise for –“

“I’m sorry, my sister –“

Harry and Olivia uttered similar chuckles as their words overlapped each other. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled at Olivia again.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Harry told her with an apologetic shrug. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it, but he should stop.”

Olivia dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “It’s completely fine, really,” she assured Harry, impressed that he felt the need to apologise for his friend. “My sister thinks she’s funny, too. I tell her all the time she’s not, but…”

“No, she’s lovely,” he told Olivia. He smiled, his mouth twitching slightly as though he was going to say more. “Uhm…”

“So what did you tell him about me getting sick?” Olivia blurted out, jerking a thumb towards the patio. “Sorry,” she added just as quickly, realising the bluntness of her question a moment too late. Her face heated up and she wished she could shake the middle school feeling. “Never mind that. Go ahead.”

“No, no,” Harry answered, ducking his head slightly. His smile came across as bashful and Olivia was perplexed. She didn’t think she was capable of saying or doing anything to make a huge pop star like him abashed.

“Erm…” he continued after a brief pause. “Well, I wouldn’t have said anything to him if I knew I’d be seeing you again. No, well…” he corrected himself, “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s not polite to gossip.”

“I threw up on you,” Olivia reminded him. “I’d have told everyone if it happened to me,” she snickered. “Besides, aren’t you the one who said it was your right to make fun?” she reminded him, remembering their conversation from the plane.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Harry mused. “I was probably trying to make you smile. You have a great smile,” he added, offering Olivia his own great smile.

“Oh, jeez!” Olivia laughed. While she didn’t think she wasn’t worth the compliments – and three years of braces assured she did have a great smile - past experience told her that boys who charmingly complimented girls in a bar were nothing more than fuckboys looking for a lot more than flirty banter over a couple pints. First it was a comment on her smile, then eyes, then figure and before she knew it, the lonely girl was going home with the insincere boy.

“Thanks,” she added after a moment, Maybe Harry wasn’t a fuckboy. Then she laughed to herself – he was a rock star. Of course he was.

“It’s true,” he replied, his voice quiet, and Olivia wondered if he sensed her incredulity. “I’m not… anyway,” he corrected, changing his mind on what he was about to say, though Olivia had an idea. He grinned again and gently nudged Olivia’s shoe with his own.

“It’s not a line,” he assured her. “If I was going to give you a line, it’d be something like… do you like raisins?” He looked at Olivia expectantly and gestured for her to answer the question.

“Uhm… not really?” Olivia answered with a snicker, hoping she didn’t ruin Harry’s joke, and trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach caused by his foot touching hers.

“Then how about a date?” Harry finished, grinning proudly at the cheesy pick up line.

Olivia had to laugh. Whether Harry was a fuckboy only after one thing, or a genuinely nice man with a terrible sense of humour, the pickup line tickled her funny bone.

“That’s terrible,” she told him, moving her foot and intending on responding to his own foot nudge, but stopping at the last moment. Then she wondered if he was actually asking her on a date, and then she wondered further when she turned fourteen years old.

“Oh, it’s the worst,” Harry agreed. “But, it made you laugh, so it’s a bit of a win.”

Olivia laughed again. Harry commenting on her smile or her laugh made it almost impossible not to reciprocate with the complimented feature. “It did…” she agreed.

“Anyway, that’s what I told Louis,” Harry added, as though he read Olivia’s thoughts. Olivia noticed his face take on a reddish tinge as he spoke. “I told him you had a lovely laugh… and that you were… are… really pretty.”

“Really?” asked Olivia, the word “pretty” taking her by surprise. Usually fuckboys preferred the word “hot” or “sexy”. Pretty was rarely used. He was doing a good job at confusing Olivia –fuckboys usually didn’t sound so sincere, but how could he not be one?

“Mhm,” he replied, his face still crimson. He shrugged, seeming more like one of the awkward teenagers in Olivia’s class than a chart-topping musician. He appeared to be so genuine, and Olivia wondered if a person was able to make themselves blush on command.

“I also told him you had an impressive knack for stringing cuss words together,” he continued playfully. “I thought I’d heard them all, but sitting beside you, it was like… learning a new language. A very educational experience,” he added with a cheeky smirk.

Olivia laughed, pressing her hand on her forehead and ducking her head. “Well, I am a teacher, so it would be out of character for me to be any other way,” she answered after a moment.

“You are!” asked Harry, his face brightening at the revelation. “That’s lovely, teachers are wonderful. What do you teach?”

It was an unexpected reaction, considering Harry’s glamourous career and her own typical one, and she smiled appreciatively. “History and geography,” she answered. “Grade eleven and twelve. I don’t think I could handle anyone younger than that,” she added with a grimace.

“They must be a bit easier to reason with at that age,” he wondered, indicating to Olivia’s drink as the waitress approached their table. “Would you like another one?”

“Sure,” she answered, more slowly than necessary as she tried to determine if it was a nice gesture or an attempt at getting her drunk so she would be easier to take home. But, considering her glass was empty, she accepted. “Thank you.”

“What made you want to teach history and geography?” Harry asked Olivia, leaning slightly forward in his seat and focusing on her response. She was fascinated by his own fascination about her career – the only thing that fascinated her about teaching before she entered the profession was the elusive staff room.

“Well… I was never very good at math or science,” Olivia confessed with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I was always fascinated by the world before us. All the kids always wanted to pretend to be Ninja Turtles or Power Rangers and I was the one like, hey, let’s play Little House on the Prairie!”

Harry laughed, his throaty chuckle replaced with a higher pitched giggle, as though he was thoroughly entertained by her comment. “That’s adorable,” he determined, his dimpled grin causing the butterflies to again take flight in Olivia’s stomach.

“Well, I was pretty adorable,” Olivia agreed, smiling thankfully at the waitress as she plunked the fresh drinks on the table.

“I’d say you still are,” he told her shyly, his comment punctuated with a smile before covering up his grin with a drink.

The giggle that erupted from Olivia at Harry’s compliment sounded like no laugh she’d ever emitted before. It was squeaky, shrill and she was certain it sounded more like one of the Chipmunks saying “tee-hee” than an actual laugh. She was mortified that such an unsophisticated sound came from her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled after a pause, taking a long gulp of her drink in hopes of ridding the heat from her face. “I try,” she added with another awkward snigger, breaking eye contact to rummage through her purse – a nervous habit she often pulled when she wanted to avoid eye contact.

He smiled, clasping his hands together and resting them on his lap, studying Olivia intently as she pawed through the second-hand Michael Kors that may or may not have been a knockoff.

“Where in Canada are you from?” he asked her after a few beats had passed.

She looked up from her bag, her hand clutching a half-empty bottle of Avon hand cream, the label decorated with candy canes. “What makes you think I’m from Canada?” she asked, sounding surprised as she squeezed a dollop of lotion onto her hands and rubbing them together before discarding the bag under her chair.  
“Wild guess,” he answered teasingly. “And also, your accent.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at herself, feeling stupid. “I always forget I have one,” she confessed, knowing her statement made her sound like a complete idiot. Of course she had an accent. Everyone had an accent. She knew immediately that Harry was from England, so it was only natural that he immediately knew her nationality based on how she spoke.

“Uhm, I’m from BC,” she added in response. “The interior, like four hours from Vancouver. Small town, but I like it.”

“Small towns are nice,” Harry agreed. “What brings you down here, then? I mean to Los Angeles,” he added. “Not this place.”

“The Yelp reviews brought me here,” Olivia answered cheekily. “I mean, clearly. And my sister brought me to LA. She lives here,” she added. “So I’m just here for a bit of spring break R & R. And R,” she corrected, holding up her drink before taking a swig.

“I can imagine it’s needed, with your job,” he agreed. “So… you’re just here for a couple of weeks?”

It was then she decided that this conversation in this bar was as far as her fraternizing with Harry Styles would go. In Olivia’s mind, his question wasn’t an innocent continuation of their conversation. It was him trying to find out if they could both get theirs for a couple of weeks before anyone caught the feels and the “where is this going?” questions were asked. And while Olivia had a strong suspicion the fun would be good, she knew that launching into a couple of hot vacation trysts with a complete stranger with no chance of anything else happening would make her feel dirtier than the floor in the bar they were sitting in.

“Yeah, about that,” answered Olivia, subconsciously shifting her body away from his and crossing her arms across her chest. “Just going to hang out with my sister and the kids and stuff,” she added. “Haven’t seen them in a while, so it’ll be nice.”

Harry nodded. “Sounds like a nice time.” He agreed. “So… you’re going to be with them the whole time? Not going to see the sights or anything like that?”

Olivia shrugged dismissively. “Might go to Disneyland for a couple of days, but… Yeah, just some much needed sister time,” she told him, silently willing her sister to come back from wherever she was before Harry asked her if she wanted to see the view from his house and she had to awkwardly say no.

He ran his hand through his hair before wringing his hands together. “Well… I mean, maybe if you want, like… an evening away, or something… I could take you out for supper? And we could hang out more? I mean, this has been fun… right?”

He looked so adorably nervous that Olivia wanted to smack her more responsible subconscious. But she knew how she would feel after the events unfolded and she didn’t want to put herself through feeling low down and dirty. So she let out a quiet sigh and focused intently on tearing up the cardboard coaster on the table, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she admitted to him, keeping her eyes on the pieces of coaster between her fingers. She knew if she looked up, she would change her mind.

“Oh.” Harry deadpanned, his voice sounding both surprised and disappointed. “Uhm… well, alright. But… why?”

“Oh my God, you guys!” Before Olivia could answer Harry, Stephanie’s voice filled the room, causing Harry and Olivia to turn and look at her. Louis followed in behind her. “They have full-size Jenga over there! Come on, we have to play!”

Olivia stared at her sister, silently telling her it was time to go and hoping Stephanie’s big mouth would stay shut and her endless questions about the night would be asked only once they were in the privacy of her car. Stephanie stared back at Olivia, her brow furrowed with confusion but obliged and shrugged.

“Unless… I guess it kind of late, isn’t it?” Stephanie countered, looking at Olivia and Harry and back again. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” answered Olivia quickly, standing up. The pieces of the coaster fluttered from her lap but she paid no mind to them. She forced herself to look Harry and offered him a remorseful smile.

“Thank you for a nice evening,” she told him before dropping her gaze and fishing a five-dollar bill from her pocket. She knew the cost of the drink meant nothing to him, but to Olivia, it was the principle of the drink and what it could have entailed.

“Sure,” Harry answered, his voice sounding as confused as Louis’ and Stephanie’s faces looked. “You take care,” he told her, shrugging in Louis’ direction as Olivia turned to leave the room.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” she told her sister as Stephanie stood by the bar, Visa in hand. Without waiting for a response from her, Olivia bolted outside, unable to shake the feeling that she’d just made a foolish mistake.


	5. Chapter Five

“So… just tell me again why you wouldn’t give Cutie McHottie Rock star your number?”

Olivia looked up from the colouring book she was doodling in and rolled her eyes at her sister. “Seriously?” she questioned before selecting a bright green crayon and filling in Queen Elsa’s braid. It had been three days since the night out at the bar and while Olivia was content to just brush it off and exaggerate the story to when she, the nearly middle-aged school teacher, turned down the handsome rock star, Stephanie was having a hard time letting it go.

“But he was so cute!” Stephanie whined, leaning against the island counter and resting her chin in her palms. “And you know he was super nice! And those dimples!” Stephanie threw her head back and sighed loudly. “You’re so dumb!”

“Shut up,” Olivia retorted, her choice of words causing her niece, Mia, to look up from her own colouring page and shake her head solemnly at Olivia.

“We don’t say shut up in this house,” she quietly informed her aunt, repeating a phrase she’d been told many times herself. “And we don’t say dumb either, Mommy.”

“Sorry, honey,” the sisters apologised in unison to the five year old. Stephanie covered her mouth, bemused by her daughter’s disciplinary attitude, but Olivia kept her head down, focusing too intently on the colouring book before her.

“But seriously, Liv,” Stephanie pressed on, her comment causing Olivia to groan loudly enough that the dog, curled up under the table, lifted his head and got to his feet, vacating the room. “This dude was into you! And he wasn’t just looking for a piece!”

“How do you know?” asked Olivia scornfully.

“How do you?” Stephanie retorted. “Is it really so hard for you to believe that a super cool guy could actually want to hang out with you because you’re super cool and gorgeous and awesome and everything wonderful, and not just be trying to take a peek at your vagina, no matter how wicked it may or may not be?”

“It is pretty wicked,” Olivia answered, sounding bored. She’d heard it all before – incredulous aunts, shocked cashiers, drunk older men. They all fed her the same stories, wondering how she could be single when she farted rainbows and sneezed pixie dust. And sometimes, she’d believe it. She’d re-sign up for Plenty of Fish, talk to a handsome man with a good job and no kids and she’d think he could be the one to sway her thinking. They’d go on a nice date, have an innocent good night kiss and by noon the next day, the unsolicited eggplant pictures were flooding her MMS inbox. She’d stopped thinking it was the men. It had to be her.

“Well, Harry wasn’t thinking about your wicked vagina!” Stephanie shot back. “He was thinking about your smile, and your laugh, and how cute you were when you blushed!”

“And how do you know all that, Madame Stephanie?” Olivia asked, lifting her hand away from the colouring book so Mia could flip through the pages and find another blank one she could attempt to colour on for five minutes. This kid was single-handedly keeping the logging industry thriving.

Stephanie grinned mischievously and held up her phone. “Maybe you didn’t want to give out your number but someone did!”

Olivia paled. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice filled with apprehension. “Stephanie, I swear to God…” She gripped her stomach and stared at her sister anxiously. Being the youngest of three girls, Olivia was used to her life being meddled with – though it didn’t mean she enjoyed it or had gotten used to it.

Laughing, Stephanie came and sat at the table beside Olivia. “Calm down,” she told her sister, still grinning. “I gave mine to Louis, because he’s interested in meeting Jeff and some of the team. It’s not all about you, you know,” she added, punching Olivia’s arm playfully.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Olivia leaned back in her chair. “Thank God,” she determined, shaking her head at Stephanie. “God, you suck.”

Smiling brightly, Stephanie stood up, positioning herself out of arms reach. “Oh, there’s just one more thing…” she added innocently.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What?” she asked hesitantly, the knot in her stomach that had disappeared quickly returning.

“They’re coming over for a barbecue… Tonight!”

*~*~*~*

“Are you still mad at me?”

Olivia glanced up from the YouTube tutorial she was watching for the third time – what thirty-one year old woman still had trouble with eyeshadow trios? – and sighed. Stephanie was standing in the doorway of the guest room, timidly peering around the door. After she’d heard the barbecue bombshell, Olivia had uttered a string of expletives at Stephanie, got scolded by an aghast Mia and disappeared into her bedroom where she’d stressed, panicked and cussed for the last hour.

“I’m not mad,” Olivia replied, her tone even and implying the opposite. She picked up her eyeshadow and examined the container, ignoring her sister.

Taking her response as an invitation to enter, Stephanie pushed the door open the rest of the way and took a step in. “Yes, you are,” she countered, watching Olivia examine the eyeshadow. “The lightest colour is – “

“I know!” Olivia snapped, tossing the eye shadow in the direction of her makeup bag.

“I’m just trying to help!” Stephanie shot back, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest and resembling her pre-school aged daughters.

“I don’t need your help!” Olivia argued, the bickering in the room sounding the same as it did fifteen years earlier in the home they grew up in. “It’s my life and you don’t have to butt in all the freakin’ time! Just because I don’t live my life like you do doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do!”

Stephanie furrowed her brow. “It’s eyeshadow,” she reminded Olivia, her lips twitching into a grin. A riled-up Olivia was her favourite kind of Olivia and, in typical big sister fashion, she enjoyed poking the bear.

“I’m not talking about stupid eyeshadow, idiot!” Olivia exclaimed, certain that Stephanie knew that and was just being her usual difficult self. “I’m talking about this stupid barbecue! Why can’t you just let this go? It’s not a big deal, and it’s kind of embarrassing that you’re making it one.”

“I told you, Louis wanted to meet Jeff and the –“

“Bullshit, you don’t give a crap about that,” retorted Olivia, amazed Stephanie was still trying to use her hockey playing husband as the reason behind the barbecue. “Just be straight with me and tell me you’re being a nosy, bratty busy-body and… maybe I won’t be mad anymore.”

“I’m not being a brat,” Stephanie answered, taking another step into the room. The fact that she didn’t deny being nosy or a busy-body wasn’t lost on Olivia. “Besides, I thought you weren’t mad?” she added, her eyes twinkling.

Olivia sighed loudly and covered her face with her hands. “You don’t get it!” she told her sister, her voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing for me! Not only was I this awkward, bumbling loser like I always am around cute guys, but then I reject him – and not in a cool, sophisticated way, oh no! In, again, an awkward, bumbling loser kind of way!” She fell backwards onto the pillows, her hands still covering her face. “And now you’re bringing him here! Where I’ll still be an awkward, bumbling loser!” Olivia peered at her sister through her fingers and sighed again. “Do you hate me?”

“God, and the Oscar goes to…” Stephanie said with a roll of her eyes, joining Olivia on the bed. “I don’t hate you, idiot. Just the opposite, in fact.” She propped herself up on her elbow and stared at her dramatic little sister.

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you,” Stephanie confessed quietly. “You’re not an awkward, bumbling loser. You’re a beautiful, strong, amazing person who’s been screwed over by dickwads who don’t even deserve the time of day from you. I promise, Liv, my best promise, that I never in a million years would have even talked to these guys again if I didn’t think that they were good guys. I promise,” she added again for good measure.

Olivia sighed again. She knew Stephanie was right. She was annoying and meddling and a know it all, but she wasn’t malicious. She also had a good read on people, better than Olivia ever did. Olivia was the type of person who thought the best of someone when she should think the worst, and thought the worst of someone when she should think the best. Stephanie could see through people like she was looking through a window and was rarely wrong with her conceptions.

“Fine,” Olivia answered, the word accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. “But, if you’re wrong? You owe me… Jeff’s salary for a year.”

Stephanie chortled, sticking her hand out to shake on it. “I’m never wrong.”

*~*~*~*

Ding dong!

Olivia’s head snapped up at the sound of the doorbell ringing through her sister’s home. They were early. Too early. What kind of rock stars were early? Olivia was elbow-deep in hamburger mix, she was still wearing her glasses and she hadn’t had enough wine to feel entirely comfortable with the situation.

“Come in, come in!” She heard Stephanie exclaim in the foyer, clearly not thrown off by her guest’s early arrival. There was a commotion at the door as the boys were ushered in, but Olivia kept her head down, focusing on the hamburger patties. She gripped the cold meat with her fingers and slowly pressed her palms together, almost methodically. She reminded herself to act cool, though it was easier said than done. It frustrated her to no end that she could be outgoing and funny and mildly flirtatious when she had no interest in a guy, but the second she developed a modicum of an interest in him, she became an awkward, insecure dope.

“Where’s Olivia?” she heard a voice – Louis, she thought – ask. Olivia couldn’t be sure, but he sounded as though he was smirking.

“Where every good woman should be!” Stephanie replied, her voice growing louder as she led the way into the kitchen. “Voila!” She announced, opening her arms with flourish as though she was presenting Olivia, who responded with a roll of her eyes. After a reminder to herself, she added in a smile, intended to be directed to the both of them but instead, she locked eyes with Harry. He was still as beautiful as he had been three days ago. He matched her smile, looking relieved that Olivia had initiated the smile.

“Oy, is this how your guests earn their keep?” asked Louis with a chuckle, taking it upon himself to settle into one of the chairs in the breakfast nook. Harry stood in the door way for a brief moment, looking at the empty chairs beside Louis before deciding on one of the stools at the island – conveniently, directly across from Olivia’s work area.

“I have frozen patties!” Stephanie protested, pulling a few different liquors from the cupboard and spreading them out on the counter, along with the box of merlot that was ever-present in Stephanie’s home. “But Liv wouldn’t let me cook them.”

“Steph, they were from 2008,” Olivia reminded her sister, adjusting the patties on the cookie sheet and fussily pressing on them, ensuring they were as circular as she could make them. Harry watched her, amusement on his face.

“They’re a bit… oblong,” he told her, his voice quiet but teasing. Olivia’s initial reaction was to look down at the tray of patties and examine them – they’re perfect! - before realizing Harry was teasing her.

“Oh stop,” she told him, allowing herself a smile at her obsessiveness but being unable to keep her hands away from the patties, cupping her hands around them once more.

He let out a chuckle, looking up from Olivia’s hands only to reply to Stephanie’s drink question. He took a sip of the merlot she’d handed him before asking Olivia “what can I do to help?”

She smiled appreciatively at the gesture, though she normally didn’t like help while she was cooking – the only help she tended to accept was help with the cleanup. She was about to tell Harry no but after a second thought, she decided to accept the offer and let go of her controlling kitchen habits, at least for the evening.

“Thank you,” she answered, sliding a block of cheese towards him. “Can you cut this into slices? The cutting board’s right there,” she added with a gesture. “Just like… thin slices. Not too thick, but just… skinny ones. But not super-skinny, like not see-though…” she told him, trailing off and closing her eyes briefly when she heard how she was rambling about cheese slices.

Harry grinned, pulling the tinfoil off of the cheese. “Got it,” he answered, tickled by her rambling. “That’s exactly how I like to cut my cheese.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose, attempting to supress her laughter at Harry’s choice of words. It was a futile effort, and she let out a snicker. “Sorry!” she quickly apologised, ducking her head and focusing on the last of the hamburger patties. Her eyes caught the block of cheese and she giggled again, reminding herself of a twelve year old boy, laughing at fart jokes.

Harry looked at Olivia curiously. “What?” he asked, Olivia’s giggle making him smile, though he was unsure why. It took him a moment and then he laughed, realising what he’d said. “No, that’s not what I meant! I meant it’s how I cut – slice! the cheddar!”

His effort to try to correct what he’d meant made Olivia laugh harder. “Sorry!” she panted between fits of giggles. “It’s not funny, I’m sorry!” She took a deep breath and exhaled, blowing her bangs off of her forehead, willing herself to stop laughing at an unintentional bathroom joke. Her attempt to calm herself made him laugh harder, and within moments the two of them were cracking up, heads ducked and hands braced against the countertop.

Had Olivia not been preoccupied with laughing hysterically, she would have noticed the look Louis and Stephanie exchanged across the room. “What’s so funny, guys?” asked Stephanie in a saucy voice, pleased to see her sister relaxing and sharing in a raucous giggle-fest with the dimpled darling.

“Nothing, nothing,” Olivia assured her sister, her voice still thick with laughter. She turned to the sink, washing the hamburger off her hands before turning back to Harry. He looked as though he was holding in his laughter, causing her to crack up again. “We’re eleven, aren’t we?” she pondered, picking up the tray of patties and stepping towards the door.

“I’m just gonna get these going,” she told the group, pushing the door to the back deck open and stepping onto the patio. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, laughing at the silly slip of words didn’t make her feel like an idiot. Maybe because they were actually laughing at something he said, and not something she did, but regardless of the reason, laughing with Harry was nice.

Mere moments after she came outside, the door opened again and Harry, looking somewhat sheepish, stepped onto the deck, balancing the plate of cheese, his wine glass and her wine glass in his hands. “You forgot the cheese,” he informed her, his lips twitching at the word.

Olivia grinned, pleased he came to join her. She took the cheese plate from Harry and set it beside the barbecue before accepting her now-full wine glass from him. “You’re the one who cut it,” she reminded him.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Harry mused, leaning against the lattice railing. “I guess it’s… nacho cheese,” he added, his voice breaking into a snicker at his own joke.

“Oh my God!” Olivia laughed, twirling the dials on the barbecue and pressing the ignitor. Straightening up, she took a sip of wine and grinned at Harry. “That’s terrible. It’s… it’s not gouda,” she told him, pleased – and quite surprised - with her own quick wit.

Harry had been taking a sip of his own drink when Olivia made her joke and he coughed, choking on the liquid as he laughed loudly. “Oh, God,” he chuckled, his voice raspy as he coughed again. He took another sip to clear his throat and ran his hand through his hair.

“Well played,” he told Olivia, holding his hand up for a high-five. She obliged, connecting her hand with his. Their hands stayed connected in the high-five position for a moment longer than required before they both dropped their still-joined hands to their sides. The butterflies in Olivia’s stomach were multiplying and fluttering around as though they were on speed. As their hands separated, she could still feel the presence of his hand against hers and realised she wanted him to touch her again.

“And to you,” answered Olivia, taking another drink before running the wire brush along the barbecue rack. “Nacho cheese… very clever.”

“I hate to brag, but terrible jokes are my specialty,” Harry replied, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder arrogantly.

“I’ve noticed,” Olivia told him, holding her hand over the racks to check the temperature. “That raisin joke? It was such a dad joke, it was a grandpa joke. I’m kind of jealous of your skills,” she continued cheekily.

Harry took another long drink, as though he was using the alcohol to build up confidence before smiling at Olivia. “Speaking of the raisin joke… you never did answer it,” he informed her with a soft smile before breaking his gaze and looking at the ground.

Olivia had been hoping their chuckles over cheese would be enough of an ice breaker that the embarrassing night at the bar didn’t get brought up, but she supposed the kind thing to do would be to explain to Harry why she turned him down. Given how many times she’d been turned down, she assumed the gesture would be appreciated.

“I’m sorry about that night,” Olivia told him, matching Harry’s long drink with one of her own. “I just thought that –“

Harry looked up at Olivia and shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise,” he advised her. Smiling, he chuckled softly. “You’re so Canadian.”

Olivia gave a slight eye roll. “I know, I’m sorry, but I –“

He pointed a finger at her, cutting her off again. “Stop it,” he instructed, his voice firm but a smile on his face. “Your sister explained it all. It’s fine.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe along the deck and shrugged. “I respect why you didn’t, if you thought that’s what it was all about it. It wasn’t. It’s not,” he quickly added. “I think you’re really cool, and… I really would like to take you out sometime. Somewhere nowhere near my house, I promise,” he told her with a grin.

His words hung in the air for a beat or two before Olivia smiled. Stephanie had been right – so much for winning an NHL salary for a year. She locked eyes with Harry before nodding ever so slightly. He noticed her nod and smiled brightly.

“So…” he began, his dimples prominent as he grinned. “Do you… like raisins?”

Olivia laughed. She couldn’t picture any of the boys back home making jokes about cheese or raisins and looking so adorable while doing so. He was such a dork, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering in her stomach. “No!” she exclaimed, still laughing.

He grinned and rubbed his hands together in mock anticipation. “Then… how about a date?”

Olivia pressed her finger against her cheek, pretending to think his question over before laughing again. “Yes,” she answered sincerely, giving Harry the answer she should have given him three days ago. “Of course.”


	6. Chapter Six

"God, I’m a good cook," Stephanie praised herself, winking teasingly at her sister as she took a bite out of her burger. "I really know how to slice up a mean tomato. Oops," she added as one of her tomato slices she’d just raved about dropped out of her burger and onto the deck. One of the dogs quickly scrambled up to eat the tomato, devouring it before he had a chance to taste it.

"I think the best part is the cheese," Harry commented, his voice serious. "It’s not too thick… thin, but not see-through. It’s perfect," he determined with a charming grin directed at Olivia. The couple of glasses of wine she’d consumed were making her gigglier than normal, but she reined back her giggles in an attempt to remain cool.

"You guys are both amazing," she deadpanned instead, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. A grin escaped – something she realised was almost impossible not to do with Harry around.

"Best meal I’ve had in months," Stephanie’s husband, Jeff told Olivia, his voice muffled as he was speaking with his mouth full. "Next time I get married, she’s gonna be a chef," he added, smirking at his wife. It was one of their many – many – inside jokes.

"And the next time I get married, he’ll be twenty-five," Stephanie replied sweetly. "I've had the old bull, now I want the young calf. Hey, Louis! How old are you?"

Louis grinned and slung an arm across Stephanie's shoulders. "Twenty-five," he affirmed cheekily. Catching Jeff's eye, who was shooting Louis an exaggerated glare, he quickly dropped his arm. "Erm... Actually, twenty-four," he joked as Jeff pointed at his eyes and then at Louis before laughing, ensuring the younger man he was kidding.

“Keep eating, you guys” Olivia urged, gesturing to the pile of burgers on the patio table. Expecting a couple of NHL players to join them for dinner, she’d made enough burgers to feed a small country. But Jeff’s teammates hadn’t arrived – unbeknownst to Olivia, they hadn’t even been invited, as the hockey discussions planned for the night was just a ruse.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Jeff told Olivia, standing up and adding another patty to his plate. The other boys stayed sitting, and Olivia wished they would have a second helping. She wanted to help herself to more food, but felt like a cow having more to eat in front of her perfect sister and the two svelte men who, no question, were used to girls the size of Olivia’s thigh.

“I will in a bit,” Louis promised, patting his stomach. “Just have to figure out where to put it!”

“So, I thought you guys broke up,” Jeff commented airily, balancing his plate in one hand and a fresh beer in the other as he settled back into his chair. “What?” he asked defensively, met with an incredulous look from both Olivia and Stephanie. “I listen to the radio!”

“Don’t lie, I’ve seen you look at Perez Hilton,” Stephanie told her husband with a shake of his head. “You love him. And not just because he draws dicks on everyone’s faces.”

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Jeff retorted. “And shut up,” he added as he realised he was all too quick to jump to Perez Hilton’s defense.

“Everyone thinks we did,” Louis answered Jeff, his voice almost inaudible over Stephanie’s loud laughter. “It’s quite funny, actually. Our fans are very… what’s that you said about them?” he asked Harry. “Passionate?”

Harry nodded. “It’s a very nice way of putting it,” he replied. “I mean, we wouldn’t be here without them,” he added sounding very much like a media-trained professional. “But… some of them can be very… yes. Passionate.”

“And insane,” Louis echoed. “He’s the nice one, not me,” he added, jabbing his thumb in Harry’s direction with a grin.

“How do you deal with it every day?” wondered Olivia, thinking about the impending date she had with Harry – though she didn’t know when or where or even if – and wondering if they would be bombarded by crazy screaming girls who would hate her and write mean things about her online because she was older, fatter and not them. “I mean, that waitress snapped that picture of you at the bar, and we saw a couple girls waiting outside when we left. Doesn’t it get annoying?”

“It can,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “But it’s usually not that bad. We can go out and get coffee or whatever and not be noticed. The bar thing only happened cause she saw his credit card and knew his name, I think,” he continued. “Don’t worry,” he said to Olivia, though his words were quiet, mumbled and accented, so she couldn’t be sure that’s what was spoken.

“That’s why we thought you lot were ace,” Louis told Olivia and Stephanie. “You hadn’t a clue who we were. Just a couple of lads on the piss trying to steal your pool table.”

“it’s cause we’re old as shit,” Stephanie reminded him. “Now, if you were ‘N Sync, we would have been falling over ourselves just to smell you!”

“Backstreet Boys,” Olivia corrected with a smirk, remembering their childhood feuds, arguing over who was better.

Stephanie waved her hand, dismissing Olivia’s comment as Louis spoke up. “Alright, since you brought it up… Spill.”

Olivia knew she was older than Harry, but by how much was still elusive to her. She didn’t want to answer the question, but before she could decide if she should lie or tell the truth about her age, Stephanie replied.

“How old do you think we are?” she asked Louis playfully.

He guffawed. “Ay, no way,” he advised Stephanie with a grin and a shake of his head. “That’s always a bad, bad question to answer!”

“Okay, fine” answered Stephanie with a pout. “Fine, but who do you think is older?” she asked, indicating between herself and Olivia.

“You,” Harry and Louis simultaneously answered. Olivia laughed loudly; pleased they knew Stephanie was the older one. Unlike her sister, Olivia didn’t attend spas and plastic surgeons in an attempt to look a decade younger than she was. She didn’t think she looked much younger than she was, but didn’t think she looked older either.

Stephanie furrowed her brow. Olivia knew she was already planning her next Botox appointment. “Okay, but by how much?”

Jeff groaned loudly. “Jesus, Steph, you’re annoying,” he told her, though his insults were said with endearment. “She’s thirty-freakin-five.”

“Shut up!” Stephanie exclaimed, tossing one of the dog toys at her husband. “Besides, just,” she added defensively.

“Well, I wouldn’t have guessed thirty-five,” Louis assured Stephanie kindly. Olivia wondered if he was serious, though to someone only twenty-five, he and Harry probably thought a thirty-five year old would look like the Crypt Keeper.

“So you’re younger?” Louis continued, turning to Olivia with a grin. “By a lot, I’m imagining,” he added, winking playfully at Stephanie and his jab causing Jeff to laugh loudly.

“Ugh she’s thirty-one,” Stephanie scoffed, spitting out the words as though she was saying her sister was in her eighties. “She’s not some spring chicken!”

“Oh, calm down, Grandma,” Jeff teased her, standing up and grabbing the plate of burgers. “I’m gonna put these inside before we have a flood,” he said, gesturing to the two dogs eyeing up the plate and drooling profusely. “But help yourself if you want more,” he advised Louis and Harry before disappearing into the house.

Olivia exhaled quietly and blew her bangs out of her face. After a few glasses of merlot, Stephanie was bordering on obnoxious. It was painfully obvious to her that Harry was several years younger than she was; it didn’t need to be a major topic of discussion.

“Oh, he’s such a good little CinderHubby,” Stephanie chuckled, grabbing her wine glass and taking a long sip.

“Yo, Steph!” Jeff called suddenly from the kitchen, as though on cue. “Might wanna come in here and see what your darling daughters got into!”

“We’re just making dessert!” Mia’s voice wailed through the open window. “Violet wrecked it!” Her second sentence was shrieked out; causing everyone else to wince at the octave the little girl was capable of.

“Shit fuck ass damn,” Stephanie cursed, taking another long drink before setting her wine glass back down and staring at the house, looking as though she had no intention of entering the disaster.

“Stephanie!” Jeff shouted again. “I can see you!”

“God, wish me luck,” Stephanie stated, standing up with a long, dramatic sigh before disappearing into the house. Moments later, she was heard yelling “holy shit!”, her cuss punctuated by the sounds of two little girls crying.

“I can’t tell if that’s Steph crying or one of the girls,” Olivia joked, wondering where her purse was and hoping it was well out of harm’s way.

Harry laughed. “It’s a bit chaotic here, isn’t it?” he commented, nodding at his friend as Louis stood up, phone pressed to his ear. He disappeared to the front of the yard, leaving Olivia and Harry on their own.

Olivia nodded. “That’s a bit of an understatement,” she laughed. “It’s incredibly exhausting here,” she admitted, not wanting to sound ungrateful towards her sister and brother-in-law for opening their home to her for a couple of weeks, but also thinking the cabin that a couple of her colleagues had rented sounded better and better with every shriek and cry emitted from the house.

Of course, then she wouldn’t have met Harry.

“We’ll have to do something nice and relaxing when I take you out then,” Harry smiled genuinely. “Have a nice little break from this lovely madness.”

Olivia looked at Harry, surprised that she was surprised he still intended on taking her on a date after hearing her age. “You really want to take me out on a date?” she asked him, realising just then that she’d already counted on him backing out.

“Of course,” answered Harry, his face painted with confusion. “I wouldn’t have asked you – twice, mind you – if I hadn’t wanted to.”

“That’s true,” Olivia mused, though still somewhat unconvinced. She looked down at her hands, wringing them together. “I sort of thought when you found out how old I am, you wouldn’t want to,” she confessed sheepishly.

“I don’t care about that,” he told her, watching her nervously wring her hands. “I liked you before I knew how ol – knew your age,” he added, quickly correcting his statement. He laughed suddenly, reaching out and grabbing one of her hands. Olivia’s stomach flip-flopped at their touch and she felt as though his hand, his touch, was electric.

“Stop being so nervous,” he instructed, intertwining his fingers with her own and rubbing his thumb reassuringly against the back of her hand. “I’m not that scary, am I?” He laughed again at the statement, but Olivia caught a sense of hurt in his voice.

“No,” she promised him, watching his hand massage her own and wondering how even his hands could be beautiful. “I’m just…” She stopping, cutting her words off before she uttered the only word she could think to describe herself in this scenario – fragile.

Harry shifted his position, scooting his chair closer to Olivia’s and facing her dead-on. He took her other hand in his, tingling sparks radiating across her skin He rested his elbows against his knees, their foreheads nearly touching. Their nearness caused her to notice a small imperfection on the bridge of his nose. In a passing thought, she wondered how he got it. She realised she wanted to know everything about the boy sitting in front of her, but more than anything, she wanted to know how his lips would feel against hers.

“Don’t be just,” Harry told Olivia softly, looking into her eyes intently. Usually, intense eye contact would cause one person to subconsciously break it, the intimate action too strong to accept. But Olivia found just the opposite - she was unable to look away from Harry’s gaze, even if she wanted to. Her head moved forward, impulsively and out of her control, until their foreheads were pressed up against one another. He smelled intoxicating, a delicious mixture of his shampoo, peppermint gum and just him.

“Okay,” she breathed out, the word barely audible but given their close proximity, it didn’t have to be. She managed to break eye contact, her gaze falling on his lips for just a moment before she looked back into his alluring green eyes. His pupils were wide and she could hear his heart thumping rhythmically with her own. She felt a pressure against her hands as he squeezed them tightly. She squeezed back, gripping his hands as she braced herself against his knees, dizzied by the sensations.

Just as the yearning between them became almost unbearable, Harry’s lips gently pressed against Olivia’s. She could taste his peppermint gum as he parted his soft lips, gingerly tasting her mouth with his tongue. Soft as the touch was, she still felt a shiver run though her core, a shiver that made her whole body tremble. Their hands remained tightly interlocked, her thumb rubbing against his as they quietly, carefully, explored each other’s mouths. His tiny bit of stubble rubbed Olivia’s cheek, but she didn’t care. He felt wonderful – his stubble, his slightly damp forehead pressed against hers, his tight grip on her hand. She realised then, she could kiss Harry a thousand and one more times and she would still be longing for more.


	7. Chapter Seven

“Oh, my God,” Olivia breathed out, clutching her stomach as she examined herself in the full length mirror. “I am so freakin’ nervous! This is going to be okay, right? This isn’t a bad idea?” She looked at her sister hopefully, searching for reassurance.

“Oh my God!” Stephanie moaned, throwing her head back with frustration and glaring at her sister. They’d been going through the same song and dance since the barbecue two days earlier. As soon as Harry and Louis had left Stephanie’s house, Olivia’s nerves were rattled, and over the next couple of days, she changed her mind about going more times than she would care to admit. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. She was more scared about what would happen if she did go. What if she liked him too much and had to go home in just a couple of days? Or worse, what if he realised he didn’t like her at all and couldn’t wait for her to go home? Neither were desirable outcomes.

“Do I look okay? I look fat, don’t I?” Olivia groaned, covering her face with her hands and flopping onto the bed. “What if he thinks this is the stupidest idea ever? Do you think he’ll change his mind and won’t want to see me? This could be so bad,” she added melodramatically.

Stephanie pressed her fingers against her temples and closed her eyes, her look akin to the same look she would give her children when they were stressing her out. “So, let me get this straight,” she began, and Olivia sighed. Any sentence that began with those words generally didn’t bode well for the person on the receiving end.

“He asked you out… twice… because he didn’t want to see you,” Stephanie began, counting her points off on her fingers. “He came to my home… after being rejected by you… just to see you… because he didn’t want to see you. He asked for your number and he called you – not a text – to make plans with you. And even though you had a total 90s teen, coming-of-age movie, preciously adorable, insanely sweet little kiss, you still think he doesn’t want to see you? Come. On.”

“Ugh…,” Olivia sighed, though she found herself smiling at the reminder of the kiss she shared with Harry. It was exactly how Stephanie had described it – it was sweet and pure, reminding Olivia of the innocence of being young. She hadn’t experienced a kiss that gentle and kind – and sober – in a very long time.

“You know I’m right,” Stephanie informed her triumphantly, tossing her a jacket from the pile of clothes strewn about. “Here, put this on.”

Olivia stood up and pulled on the jacket, kicking aside discarded clothes and tripping towards the mirror. She exhaled loudly as she examined her reflection. Truthfully, she was quite pleased with the way she looked. Stephanie had treated her to an early morning shopping trip and a stop off at a salon. She agreed to a cut and style, but drew the line at extensions, disappointing both Stephanie and the stylist. She looked good, she knew. But she still wondered if she looked good enough for a date with Harry Styles.

“I like him,” she confessed to Stephanie, meeting her sister’s eyes through the mirror as she twisted and turned, surveying herself. “That’s the scary part.”

Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her slender legs and watching Olivia pick herself apart. “Do you remember my first date with Jeff?” she asked Olivia, smiling wistfully at the memory, almost twenty years earlier.

Olivia snickered. “Yeah,” she answered, flicking a hair elastic at her sister. “He was supposed to come and help coach one of our games, but he ditched us so he could take you bowling. Dad was so mad,” she added with a laugh, remembering her strict father’s reaction to the eighteen year old WHL player taking his fifteen year old daughter on a date without asking his permission first.

“He got over it,” Stephanie chuckled, flicking the elastic back at Olivia. “But, my point is… I was so nervous, I puked like three times. And now… I kinda dig that boy a bit,” she said with a giggle. “I’d say it turned out pretty extraordinary…”

“I thought you puked because you ate that weird fish at Aunt Bonnie’s house,” Olivia cut in, bending at the waist and fluffing her hair.

“Ugh, do you have to remember everything?” Stephanie sighed. “I just mean that I was so, so nervous about that silly little bowling date! And look how things turned out for us. Like, you never know. Just go and have fun, and see what happens. Stop overthinking everything, just chill out and have fun. Fun!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Olivia promised her sister. “You’re right. I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

*~*~*~*

Olivia couldn’t remember the last time a date had volunteered to pick her up at home. Harry had insisted upon picking Olivia up, and scoffed in disbelief when she suggested she could meet him somewhere. He told her he would pick her up at 5 o’clock sharp, though he kept the plans close to his chest. He only advised her to bring a sweater and wear flat shoes, which pleased Olivia, as she hated heels.

Punctual to a fault, Olivia was sitting at the bottom of the stairs at quarter to five, nervously tapping feet against the hardwood and hoping Harry was a punctual person – tardiness was such a turn off, though she was certain he could be an hour or more late and she wouldn’t be turned off by him. Stephanie had the mindset to usher her boisterous family to the park, so as to not intimate Olivia more than she already felt.

The doorbell rang at precisely 4:51. Olivia’s stomach flip-flopped, but she was pleasantly surprised by Harry’s punctuality. Standing up, she ran her hands down her thighs, smoothing down her new jeans before checking her hair in the mirror. She might not admit it to Stephanie, but she was in love with her new hairstyle.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling quickly, she placed her hand on the doorknob and held it there for a moment before opening the door. Harry stood on the front porch, dressed casually in tight jeans and a white t-shirt, and yet managing to look like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. He grinned bashfully at her, his dimples seeming to get more prominent each time she saw him. His smile had a way of comforting her, and with seeing it, all of her doubts and bad nerves flew out the window. A boy didn’t smile like that if he wasn’t excited to see the girl standing in front of him.

“Wow,” he stated by way of greeting, his gaze going from her head to her toes, though not perversely. “You… look really pretty,” he told her, the bashful grin not leaving his face. “Oh! And hi, of course,” he added hurriedly, stepping closer to her and enveloping her into a hug. She reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his waist. At 5’4”, she couldn’t quite get her head to his shoulder, but she fit perfectly under his chin. And that smell… He was divine, If she could bottle it and sell it, she would be made in the shade.

“Hi,” Olivia answered, her voice muffled against his jacket. She pulled away after a moment and smiled, her smile as bashful as Harry’s. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her again like she wanted to kiss him. However, torturous as it was, she kept her hormones in check – one kiss did not a hello kiss make. “And thank you,” she added, her voice a few octaves higher with appreciation. “You look… boy-pretty?” she suggested with a teasing smirk. While there were plenty of other adjectives to describe Harry, boy-pretty somehow seemed the most fitting.

He laughed the same adorable higher-pitched laugh she’d heard the other night. “That’s perfect, I’ll take it,” he commented.

Olivia laughed, pleased he found her compliment funny and not derogatory . “Thank you for coming to get me,” she told him, genuinely appreciative of the gesture. She reached behind the door, grabbing her purse and the required sweater from the coatrack before facing him again, smile still across her face.

“It’s my pleasure, of course,” he replied, his tone still slightly dumbfounded at her appreciation, as though it was unheard of to him for a man to act any other way. “Shall we?”

Olivia nodded. “We shall,” she answered, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind her. A sleek black Audi was parked in the driveway – not unusual for this neighbourhood, but still a sight to see for Olivia. She briefly wondered if he would let her drive it.

“Pretty nice ride you’ve got,” Olivia commented as they walked side-by-side down the walkway. He smiled sheepishly and Olivia got the sense he wasn’t one who liked to flaunt his wealth – though, the fifty-thousand dollar car in the driveway said otherwise.

“The seats are comfortable, anyway,” he told her, opening the passenger side door for her – another impressive move on his part. She slid into the luxurious car, pleased to see it was a manual transmission. She knew her dad would have a hard time accepting a skinny British rocker, but his ability to drive stick would at least get him a point in his books. Then she wondered why she was thinking about what her dad would think about Harry.

Harry hopped into the car a moment later, grinning at Olivia and gesturing at the console between them. “I got you a coffee,” he told her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so there’s a bag of sugars and creams and stuff like that there.”

Olivia didn’t care what was in the cup; his gesture was thoughtful enough. She’d drink lukewarm gas station coffee just because he’d thought enough to get it for her. “Thank you,” she told him, picking up one of the cups and carefully fiddling with the tab. She warned herself not to spill all over his fancy car, or her new jeans. “Black’s perfect.”

“That’s how I like mine, too,” he told her, holding his hand up to high five at the shared trait. Her hand connected with his, but once they were joined, they easily found the comfortable, interlocked position. As he started the car and moved his hand towards the gearshift, she was recanting her initial satisfaction of his car being a manual. She suddenly remembered one of her first dates with a boy who drove stick, way back in high school, and Stephanie had advised her to angle her knees towards the centre of the car so each time he reached for the gearshift, he’d brush his hands against her knees. Feeling nostalgic and flirty, she did just that.

“Don’t move that too far away from me,” he warned her cheekily, managing to bump her hand playfully as he shifted into reverse and threw his arm across the back of Olivia’s seat before backing down the short driveway.

“Yes, sir,” answered Olivia, a similar saucy tone to her voice. She kept her left hand close to the console, waiting for him to maneuver his car through the slow-speed neighbourhood streets. She took a sip of coffee before nudging his hand.

“So, I’ve got my sweater,” she informed him, reaching into her purse and pulling out her sunglasses. “And my flat shoes. So where are you taking me?”

He offered her a sideways grin. “You’re good at following instructions,” he commented, letting the statement hang in the air. His tone was lighthearted as he ignored her question, clearly not planning on answering it.

Olivia laughed. “You’re not!” she pointed out teasingly. She wasn’t a fan of surprises; more due to the fact that she was nosy. But she wasn’t going to tell Harry that. If he planned on their date being a surprise to her, she wasn’t going to ruin that for him.

“It’s my one flaw,” he admitted with a shrug, the look on his face suggesting he was trying to remain serious, but a grin broke through. He directed it towards Olivia before taking her hand again and squeezing it. She wondered what he was made of, if every touch he gave her was electrifying to her.

“You’re a bit too modest, too,” Olivia said good-naturedly, squeezing his hand back. “But other than that, yeah… You’re pretty much flawless.” She said the words tongue in cheek, but she found herself thinking this boy really could be flawless.

Harry chuckled, keeping his grip on Olivia’s hand while nudging the stick into gear. The motion impressed Olivia – the mechanisms were as smooth as butter, not like the rusted out farm trucks she was used to. “You’re a bit of a sassy one, aren’t you?” he asked, grinning with endearment. “I like it,” he told her.

“it’s gotten me in a bit of trouble in the past, but… as long as you like it,” Olivia told him, surprised at how easily it was to be flirtatious with Harry. Maybe she was lucky enough to get over the bumbling idiot stage early on.

Harry grinned, looking as though he was about to say more but his eye caught the screen in the centre of the dashboard, broadcasting the next song to play. “Sorry, but… if you don’t know this song, I may have to kick you out right here. I mean, I won’t,” he quickly corrected, shaking his head shamefacedly. “But it’s only because I’m incredibly nice.”

“Ahh… we might have a problem,” Olivia confessed, looking at her hands and pretending to be ashamed.

“I was only kidding!” Harry assured her, letting go of her hand and moving his hand towards the stereo dials, intent on finding a song Olivia would know. “It’s okay!”

His apology was so adorable that if he wasn’t driving, she’d have pounced on him and smothered him with kisses. Granted, she wanted to do that anyway. Reaching up, Olivia took his hand, moving it away from the dials. “The problem is… it’s too quiet,” she teased him. “Of course I know this song! If I didn’t, you should kick me out.”

“Good,” he affirmed, giving her a relieved grin. “But… are you gonna sing with me?”

Olivia balked. She knew she didn’t have a good voice. Sure, she could rock out to karaoke – getting down on one knee and caressing an audience member’s cheek during I Want It That Way, or performing dance moved straight from MuchMusic’s Electric Circus during Wannabe. And if she was with anyone else, she would have busted out her best air guitar moves and belted out the words as loud as she could. But she was sitting next to an actual professional singer. She couldn’t go toe-to-toe with Jon Bon Jovi while in the same car as Harry Styles.

But his smile looked so earnest, she found herself agreeing with him. “Okay,” she said, sighing loudly. “Let’s just do this,” she advised, pressing the volume button until she was sure she’d be inaudible. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

He wasn’t listening; already deep into the first verse. “… working for her man, she brings home her pay for love, for love…” Harry looked over at Olivia as he sang those words and tickled her hand. “You’re too quiet, Miss I Know This Song!” he called over the music.

She shook her head at him, feeling her face get hot. She knew exactly why she was insecure with singing – her best friend in grade eight had mocked her and told her she couldn’t sing. But that bitch was now over three hundred pounds and living in a shack on welfare, and Olivia was holding hands with Harry Styles in an Audi. So, fuck her.

“We’ll give it a shot!”

“Oh, we’re halfway there! Whoa, oh! Living on a prayer! Take my hand and we'll make it, I swear! Whoa, oh! Living on a prayer!”

As they sang the chorus together – loudly and incredibly off-key, even him - Harry lifted their joined hands as Bon Jovi sang about holding hands. Olivia hadn’t ever thought an 80s hairband song could be romantic – and if she had to pick one, it would have easily been Every Rose Has It’s Thorn, naturally – but in just a matter of moments, Living On A Prayer suddenly became the most romantic song she’d ever heard.

“What does he say there?” Harry shouted over the music. “Baby, it’s okay!” he added, continuing with his singing.

Olivia laughed. “Hock!” she shouted back. “Like a pawn shop!”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, as though she’d just solved a complex quantum physics formula. “I never knew that!”

“You live for the fight when it's all that you've got!”

Their voices cracked simultaneously as they attempted to hit the high notes – Olivia supposed no one sounded good while singing obnoxiously loud in a car. As the song came to an end, she realised she hadn’t even been embarrassed to rock out with an actual rock star.

It was actually kind of fun, she thought to herself, hoping they could have an encore with the next song.

“You might have a future ahead of you there,” Harry told her, his voice teasing but not malicious as he turned down the volume to mute the commercial playing next.

“Yeah, watch out,” she warned him playfully, surprised that she wasn’t embarrassed by his ribbing. It was bewildering to her that she felt so comfortable with Harry. She hardly knew him, and yet, felt as though she could be entirely herself with him.

“Ehh… yeah, you’re right. Never mind,” he told her, rubbing his thumb along her hand. “Just keep singing with only me, okay, Small Town Girl?” he asked, his comment a play on words as the next song title flashed along the screen.

“Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit,” she sang in response, deciding against telling Harry that she abhorred this song, and just sang along instead. They both laughed suddenly, watching each other air guitar between the verses.

“You can’t not!” she called to him. Despite her hatred for the shitty song, it was one of the best she knew for air guitar. “Oh, the movie never ends, it goes on and on and on and giggidy, giggidy, giddigy goo!”

Every time Olivia heard the wretched song at a bar, she amended the lyrics to the Family Guy version, with Quagmire’s trademark statement in the song. She did so, almost subconsciously, during this car ride with Harry. What she didn’t count on was him changing the lyrics exactly how she had. They both looked at each other in awe before cracking up in amazement that they were both seated beside someone who did the exact same stupid thing they just did.

“Get out of my head!” Harry shouted to her.

“You get out of mine!” Olivia countered back, watching him drum against the steering wheel and decided that there was no question; he was, without a doubt, the most adorable man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life


	8. Chapter Eight

“I promise, we’re here now,” Harry assured Olivia, though he’d promised her the same promise three times in the last ten minutes. Olivia didn’t care – she’d drive to Mexico with Harry so long as the 80’s rock and hand-holding remained constant. He shifted gears, slowing the car down as he pulled into a wide spot on the road about ten miles south of her sister’s place. The Pacific Ocean was glistening to the west and Olivia, feeling punchy, looked at Harry and grinned.

“Jack… this is where we first met!” she told him with facetious astonishment and gesturing grandiosely, referencing the hellish trip over the Pacific they’d taken together just days prior.

Harry grinned at her and shook his head, turning off the car. “I first noticed you in the terminal in Vancouver,” he told her, somewhat embarrassedly. Olivia stared at him, shocked he’d noticed her before she became noticeable. “You were on the phone with someone… and your zipper on your suitcase was broken. You were trying to tie an elastic around the… like, the handle part of the zipper… and you looked so annoyed, rolling your eyes all sassy-pants like…” He smiled in retrospect, remembering the girl at the airport in Vancouver, who he was now holding hands with on the South Shore of Los Angeles.

“You saw me there?” asked Olivia, her mind instantly wondering what she was wearing and how she looked at the ungodly early hour before the flight to Los Angeles. She felt bad, having not noticed Harry. She remembered seeing a cute airport security guard, but not Harry- a tidbit she’d keep to herself.

“How could I not?” he wondered, his voice low, as though he was speaking only to himself. He smiled at Olivia before opening his door. She followed suit, though she wondered if she’d stayed put, if he would open her door for her. To her, opening the door before she was in the car was chivalrous. Opening it while she was sitting in the car was laziness, on her part.

“So, what?” Olivia asked Harry, gazing at the view before them. The ocean was beside them, but a steep cliff separated the narrow road from the bright blue water. “You gonna push me down the cliff? Tuck and roll?”

“Hence the sweater. For protection,” Harry told her, smirking as he opened the back door of the car. “Erm… but actually… I brought some food and stuff… and I thought it’d be nice to, like… just sit on the beach and have a few bites and just… like, talk and stuff, you know?”

Olivia walked to the driver’s side of the car and stood next to Harry, peering into the backseat and examining what he’d brought. She saw three bags – one had cellophane and wrapping poking out of it, and she assumed it was food. Another bag looked as though it contained fabric – a blanket, maybe . She couldn’t tell what was in the third bag, but regardless, she was impressed by his effort.

“Wow,” Olivia commented. “You did some planning here, didn’t you?” She touched his back for a second or two, wanting to show her appreciation but not wanting to be condescending. She also didn’t want to tell him that she’d never had a guy pack a picnic lunch for her with plans to just sit and talk. It was something she’d always wanted, but never got. In time, she figured she’d never get it.

He smiled at her, pulling the bags out of the car, one by one, and setting them on the ground beside him. “I just thought it would be nice…” he told her, sounding a bit uncertain of his date choice.

“It is!” Olivia quickly assured him. “It’s really, really nice. Thank you,” she added, feeling as though Harry was someone who needed reassurance for his decisions. But, who was she to deny him that, as she could be exactly the same.

“Eh, it’s more for me than you,” Harry teased her, sounding relieved as he shut the car door. “I have a thing for picnics on beaches I’ve never been to. I just needed the company,”

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” Olivia teased back, watching Harry loop two of the bags across his elbows. She wasn’t sure if it would be de-masculinizing to him, but she bent down to pick up the third bag – thankfully, the lightest one – before he could.

“I can take that,” Harry told her, reaching out to take the bag from Olivia. As he did so, one of the ones he already had in his arms slid down to his wrist. She let out a laugh, holding the bag close to her chest and turning her body away from him.

“Don’t be so greedy,” she told him, making her voice sound like a whiny child. “I want a bag too!”

Harry let out an endearing chuckle. “Well, I suppose since you asked so nice…” he answered, adjusting the bags and gesturing towards a narrow path on the west side of the parking lot. “So… apparently, there’s a really nice little cove, right down this path. Should be nice?” he stated, his tone taking on a rising inflection as though he was still uncertain about his date idea.

“It sounds perfect,” Olivia told him honestly as they began to walk towards the path. The ocean stretched out in front of them, glistening as the rays of the warm spring sun bounced off the water, akin to diamonds sprinkled about. As the duo descended the path, the salty sea breeze greeted them, cool and refreshing against their senses.

At the bottom of the hill the path veered right, but Harry turned, leading Olivia to the left. The path disappeared and was replaced with rocks and pebbles, tufts of grass poking up between the stones. He looked over his shoulder, smiling at Olivia as he reached out to take her hand.

“Careful,” he advised kindly, helping her keep her balance as they stepped around the rocks. Olivia could see a break in the rocky terrain just a few feet ahead. A small, sandy beach lay nestled between the cliffs and the ocean, the sun shining into the cove. It was breathtaking.

“This is beautiful,” Olivia said in awe, stepping off the rocky path onto the warm, damp sand. It was hard to believe that something so private could be found in the middle of Los Angeles. “How did you find this place?” she asked, her gaze focused on the ocean. She’d been to the ocean before, of course, but somehow, this time felt as though it was the first time.

Harry grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. “My sister told me about it,” he answered, setting his bags down on a patch of grass before stepping beside Olivia. “It really is beautiful,” he added, his eyes locked on Olivia, however, and not the ocean or the sandy cove. He reached for her bag, letting his finger slowly drag up Olivia’s arm. She visibly shivered under this touch and he laughed, rubbing both of her arms vigorously.

“Good thing for that sweater, huh?” he teased her, letting the words hang in the air, suggesting that she wouldn’t need the sweater to keep her warm so long as he was near. Harry wrapped his arms around her forearms and pulled Olivia close to his chest. Her arms were flat against her sides and she was unable to reciprocate the hug, but she reached her hands forward, looping her fingers through his belt loops and feeling incredibly protected enveloped by Harry.

“Good thing,” she agreed, her voice low as she turned her head to look out at the ocean. She could feel Harry rest his head atop hers, and she had to let out a chuckle. This couldn’t be her real life. She wasn’t the girl who went on romantic dates with a guy who opened doors and stood from his chair when she left the room. She was the girl who drank too many pints at the bar and let the town wannabe-Casanova woo her into his bed. This was like a movie – only it wasn’t. Everything that was happening was happening, and she wondered how a small town girl who cussed too much and didn’t work out enough managed to snag the attention of someone like Harry.

“What’s funny?” he wondered, the words murmured into her hair.

“Nothing,” Olivia assured him. “Just… it’s funny how I puked on you just a couple days ago, and now we’re here, and it’s just… weird. Good weird!” she quickly added. “Just funny how things can go.”

“Yeah… it doesn’t take much to woo me,” Harry told Olivia, his voice deadpan. He snickered after a moment, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head before pulling away. He smiled at Olivia, looking as though he wanted to say more but instead, gestured to the bags holding the picnic supplies.

“Shall we?” he asked. When Olivia nodded, they untangled themselves from one another and stepped towards the bags. Harry reached into one of the bags and pulled out a faded, floral comforter that looked as though it belonged on the guest bed at Grandma’s house. A sheepish grin crossed Harry’s face as he gave the blanket a shake.

“It’s clean, I promise,” Harry told Olivia, shaking the blanket again and trying unsuccessfully to get it to lay flat against the sand. The wind blew under the blanket, pushing it up and against Harry’s face. Olivia laughed, watching him struggle for a moment before reaching out and grabbing a corner of the blanket.

“It’s perfect,” she told Harry, pulling her corner tight and placing a large rock on top of it. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have been impressed if Harry had brought a Siberian goose down comforter for their picnic lunch. Seeing the older blanket showed her that despite his fame and apparent wealth, he was just a normal guy on a picnic with a normal girl. Olivia liked that thought.

She kicked off her shoes and settled onto the blanket, watching as Harry joined her and pulled another bag closer to him. “So, you have a sister?” asked Olivia, stretching her legs out and propping herself up on one elbow as Harry began pulling picnic supplies out of the bag. Most of the containers were in Styrofoam to-go containers, remaining a mystery to Olivia.

He nodded, arranging the containers in a way that only made sense to him. “Yeah. Gemma,” he answered, smiling at the mention of his sister – a reaction that wasn’t lost on Olivia. She knew that how a man treated his sisters or mother spoke volumes about how he would treat a romantic partner. “She’s a few years older than I am. She’s brilliant and sassy… Kinda reminds me a bit about you,” he added, looking up at Olivia and smiling. “I mean… not in all the ways,” he quickly corrected with a bashful chuckle, still focusing on the take-out containers. “But, I mean… you’re just both smart, and cheeky. You’re cuter than she is, though,” he told her, playfully nudging Olivia’s arm.

“I am cuter than most,” Olivia joked back as Harry pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and set them on the on the blanket. Olivia beamed when she saw the chips. “Oh, gosh!” she exclaimed, sounding more excited than she intended. “Those are my favourite!”

Harry smiled, wordless as he unzipped an insulated wine koozie and pulled out a bottle. Olivia recognised the New Zealand label immediately as one of her most sought-after bottles – though rarely purchased. At thirty-five Canadian dollars a bottle, she couldn’t justify it more than a time or two a year.

It was rather happenstance that Harry had managed to buy her favourite wine and Cool Ranch Doritos, but Olivia didn’t think too much of his purchases until he emptied the rest of the snacks onto the blanket. Double Stuffed Oreos. Goldfish crackers. Nibs. Green jelly beans. She furrowed her brow, confused, as she looked at Harry.

“This is… like, all my favourite junk food…” she told him with a laugh, trailing off. If it wasn’t a coincidence, it was an awfully good guess. “How did you manage that?”

Harry shrugged, biting his lip before smiling at Olivia. “I just wanted to make sure I got stuff you liked… so I asked your sister,” he confessed. “I hope that’s okay…” he added uncertainly.

“Of course it is,” answered Olivia, taken aback by the gesture. To some, it may not have seemed like a big deal. It was just wine and junk food. But to her, it was about a man caring about her own likes and wants, wanting to ensure that she felt comfortable on their date. “I’m… ” She paused, not wanting to come off as self-loathing or insecure, but also not wanting to divulge that she’d never have a date care so much about her wants and likes. Even Ryan, the man she dated for three years, didn’t put forth any effort to impress or please Olivia. But Harry didn’t need to know all of that. “Thank you,” she simply stated instead.

“You’re welcome,” answered Harry, opening the wine bottle and pouring Olivia a glass. “But first, the main course,” he told her, gesturing to the to-go containers. He sat up straighter and flipped open the lids, each container holding the ingredients for DIY fish tacos.

“Oh, my gosh,” Olivia said with a laugh. This boy just kept the surprises coming. “Guess what?”

“You hate fish tacos,” Harry guessed with a cheeky smirk, handing Olivia a paper plate.

“Despise them,” she kidded, moving her hand to the side of her mouth. “Except I might be drooling…” she pondered jokingly.

Harry reached up, touching Olivia’s face where her hand had just been. “Maybe just a touch,” he murmured to her, letting his hand graze across her cheek. His touch was so gentle, she could barely feel it, but at the same time, felt his touch deep into her core.

“I like you,” Harry said, his raspy voice low, “So… I’m gonna try to impress you. And if Cool Ranch Doritos or fish tacos is the way to go about that, then… I’ll start buying in bulk.” He grinned his charming grin again, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and letting his hand caress along her jawline and down her neck. He let his fingers linger along her collar bone for a moment. Olivia involuntarily sucked in a breath, both of them realising how close his hand was to her chest.

Olivia watched Harry’s hand against her skin before looking up and meeting his eyes. Her stomach was tumbling and her heart was racing. She knew she only had a few days left in Los Angeles, so confessing feelings to Harry wouldn’t be the best idea on her part. But his eyes were so earnest, his gesture so kind, his touch so breathtaking, she couldn’t help herself.

“I like you too,” she told Harry, her cheeks flushing as she said those words, words she hadn’t told anyone in a very long time. “With or without fish tacos,” she teased, playfully nudging Harry’s leg with her foot. “But they do help.”

“Good,” Harry said in a near-whisper. His eyes still locked with Olivia’s, he slid down and mirrored her position, propping himself up on one elbow. With his free hand, he reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger before brushing it behind her shoulder. “Can’t keep my hands to myself,” he sang out as he traced his finger along her shoulder, grinning coyly.

“I mean, I could, but why would I want to?” Olivia chimed in, though she wasn’t certain she could at this point. As if on cue, her hand reached out to teasingly poke the side of his stomach, slightly exposed as his shirt had ridden up. He didn’t have a six-pack; rather, he had a slight paunch poking out, a round little tummy that Olivia thought was a cross between the most adorable and sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Careful you don’t tickle me,” Harry warned as Olivia let her hand rest against his stomach. His comment caused her to wiggle her fingers against his skin, laughing as he squirmed under her touch.

“Why not?” asked Olivia, grinning as she gently wiggled her fingers more, allowing her digits to creep up slightly under his shirt.

He laughed, reaching down and taking her tickling hand and guiding it behind her, the motion causing Olivia to twist onto her back. “Because then I’d have to kiss you. It’s a law in England,” he added cheekily, his arm across Olivia’s stomach, still gripping her hand. He still had himself propped up on his elbow, but their proximity was now much closer.

Olivia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his lame excuse for having to kiss her, but she still bit. “But we’re not in England,” she reminded him, matching Harry’s grin as she brushed the palm of his hand with her thumb.

“Did I say England?” he mused absent-mindedly, letting his lips brush against her cheek, her forehead. “I meant California...”

“Well, in that case…” Olivia answered, her hand softly running along the nape of Harry’s neck and into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. She could see the goosebumps along his arms, reacting to her touch. “It’s not a good idea to break the law…”

“No, it’s not a good idea at all,” he agreed softly, speaking the words against her lips. As he pressed his soft lips against hers, Olivia let her own lips part, hearing herself let out a soft moan. The tenderness of the kiss consumed Olivia and while still tentative and innocent, it was clear that this kiss had more passion behind it. She let go of his hand, her free hand now joining its mate, gripping the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him down closer to her. Their lips danced wildly together; their tongues, embracing. His free hand caressed her arm – up from her wrist, across her shoulder, to her neck and back again. The movement caused his arm to brush up against Olivia’s breast, and her breath hitched in her throat at the contact but she made no motion to stop him.

Her hands, still tangled in his curly mop of hair, slowly found their way down to the nape of his neck and across his shoulders. His skin was unbearably soft. Olivia let her hands drop to his chest, wandering under his gaping T-shirt and feeling the softness of his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly and she let her hand linger for a moment against the beat. Getting the sense that Harry was looking at her, Olivia opened her eyes. He grinned at her, covering her hand on his chest with his own hand.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he murmured to her. Without waiting for Olivia to respond, Harry found Olivia’s lips again and enveloped them with his. “Have I done the same for you?” he wondered innocently, giving her a cheeky grin as he let his hand skim against her décolletage.

“What are you doing?” Olivia asked, letting out a giggle at his touch.

“Just checking on your heartbeat,” Harry told her, the cheeky grin still prominent on his face as he explored the upper region of her bosom, causing Olivia’s breathing to hasten. “It’s sort of hard to feel it underneath… these…” He trailed off, seeming mesmerized by the curves of the woman beneath him. “But, I’ll do my best. For science, of course,” he teased, allowing himself a couple more ventures across her breasts before moving his hand back towards her shoulders.

Olivia laughed, gently slapping Harry’s forearm teasingly. “You’re a brat,” she affirmed, though she was suggesting her was more a brat for moving his hand away from her chest than for the initial touch. But seeing as she was on a semi-public beach with a well-known celebrity during daylight hours, Harry’s innocent heartbeat check was as risqué as the date should get.

Harry chuckled, propping himself up again and looking down into Olivia’s eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he countered, allowing himself to lean down and brush a stray hair from her forehead. He paused, his hand lingering in her hair and the same look on his face that Olivia believed meant he had more to say. He didn’t. Rather, he smiled, ducking his head bashfully before finding her lips again. Olivia reciprocated earnestly, deciding that kissing Harry was quickly becoming one of her favourite pastimes.


	9. Chapter Nine

“Okay, I’ve got a good one,” Harry determined, gesturing with his free hand. His left arm was being used for Olivia’s pillow, as the two of them sprawled out on the blanket, watching the stars and sharing bad ‘Would You Rathers’. The tacos and wine were long gone, the sun had set behind the Pacific Ocean with a splendor of colours, a few hours had passed but neither party seemed to have a desire to end the date anytime soon.

“As good as the one about having no penis?” asked Olivia teasingly, swatting her hand against Harry’s stomach playfully. Clearly, Harry had spent too much time with his bandmates, if he thought “would you rather have no penis or five penises?” was an appropriate question for a girl whose breasts he’d just had his hands all over.

“Oh, stop,” Harry scolded her, bending his arm and ruffling her hair. Olivia laughed – she’d already teased Harry half a dozen times about his penis faux-pas, but she had no intentions of letting up. She could tell he was embarrassed by asking her the question – an easy slip-up made when he was used to playing the game on a tour bus with a bunch of perverse boys – and his embarrassment only made it more fun for Olivia to tease him. She was finding he didn’t take himself too seriously and he found it cute – not demoralizing – when Olivia teased him.

“Okay, so… would you rather… change gender every time you sneezed,” began Harry, tapping his fingers against his stomach in thought. “Or! Not be able to tell the difference between a baby and a muffin.”

Olivia snickered and turned to face Harry, an incredulous look on her face. “Are you serious?” she asked with a laugh. “How am I supposed to pick between those?”

“It’s supposed to be hard,” Harry reminded her, a proud grin on his face. “Because it’s a very good question, because I’m fully capable of very good questions!”

Olivia patted his stomach. “Yes, you are,” she cooed, feigning condescend while she tried to think of an answer to Harry’s proposition. “Okay, so… the sneezing thing. Would I become, like… a macho man? Or would I be one of those androgynous model types where you can’t really tell gender anyway?”

Harry let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re not supposed to ask questions about the questions,” he again chastised good-naturedly, as Olivia had mused further about each hypotheses Harry presented her with. But, of course, he’d obliged with each of her past questions and would do the same with this one.

“You’re so annoying,” he told her with an endearing smile, pressing a kiss against her temple. Olivia chuckled but tapped her fingers against Harry’s hand, urging him to answer her question. He let out another overstated sigh. “Okay. I guess… you don’t have to be a macho man, but you’ll look like a man. Or like a boy. Like a pre-teen boy.”

“Okay…” answered Olivia slowly. “And could I maybe supress a sneeze? Or force a sneeze? To trick this thing?”

“No. You have to accept each sneeze as it comes. And no forcing,” Harry told her, closing his eyes and absent-mindedly running his fingers through Olivia’s hair. She rolled onto her side, shifting herself closer to Harry and draping one arm across his stomach. Kissing him was lovely. She was certain other things with him would be even lovelier. But right now, cuddling on the beach with Harry, under the stars, was as close to perfection as she could imagine.

“What if I sneeze during sex?”

“Is that something that normally occurs for you?” asked Harry, lifting his head slightly to look down at Olivia, a bemused smirk on his face.

“Are you answering my question with a question?” she countered back, giving his stomach a gentle squeeze.

“I’m just trying to be annoying like you,” he teased her with a tug on her hair. “How am I doing?”

“A for effort, anyway,” she told him, trying to sound blasé but letting out a giggle. “I don’t think you’re performing to the best of your ability, though.”

“Ah, spoken like a true teacher.”

She wagged her finger at Harry. “Keep it up and you’ll have to stay after class, Mister,” she told him, fabricating sternness.

“Is that a promise?” Harry asked, grabbing her wagging finger and pulling her hand to his mouth, kissing it. Olivia laughed, yanking her hand away from Harry and propping herself up on one arm. She leaned over Harry, her hair gently falling against his cheek.

“You’re a brat,” she told him again, looking down into Harry’s eyes and wondering how it was possible to like someone this much when they’d only just met.

“And you’re annoying,” he teased her, reaching up and placing her hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her down to him. She giggled, the word quickly becoming a term of endearment and not an insult. “But you’ve got a cute giggle, and you’re awfully pretty,” he mumbled against her lips. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

Olivia smiled at his words but didn’t comment on them. She felt as though her impending return home was an elephant in the room, and she didn’t want to think about it while she was having such a fun time with Harry. She knew she would be going home. He knew she would be going home. There was no point in mentioning the inevitable.

Letting out a small sigh, Olivia flopped back down onto her back, relaxing against Harry’s arm. He ruffled her hair again and the two of them were silent for a few moments. Olivia wondered if he was thinking about her leaving Los Angeles as well. Breaking the silence, Olivia nudged Harry’s leg playfully with her own.

“So… what if I sneeze during sex?”

Harry covered his eyes with his hand. “Oh, God,” he moaned out. “Just answer the question,” he advised her, pretending to be annoyed with her.

“I can’t make an educated decision without all of the facts,” Olivia reminded him, reaching across his stomach and taking his hand in hers, tracing her fingers along his. She was enjoying the teasing banter they had going on with one another and was pleased Harry could dish it as well as take it.

“You’re just stalling because you don’t have an answer to such an incredible set of questions,” Harry boasted to Olivia, toying with her fingers as though they were having a thumb war. “Okay, okay,” he stated, feeling her playfully pin his thumb backwards. “Okay, I guess... you won’t sneeze while your… parts are in use. Or maybe you’ll still sneeze, but you won’t change.”

Olivia was silent, mulling over his words in her head. She was curious about the details about using gender parts – namely, if she was pregnant or on her period, would she remain female – but decided against asking Harry, though she had a feeling he wouldn’t be weirded out by the mention of the two P words. “Okay, I can live with that,” she determined after a moment. “So now, this muffin thing…”

Harry groaned again, rolling himself over so his chest was pressed against Olivia’s, pinning her arms above her head. “Why don’t I just kiss you instead?” he asked coyly, finding her lips before she could answer. She laughed against his lips, pulling her hands free from his clutches and wrapping them around his neck.

“If you insist,” sighed Olivia, her eyes shining brightly as she gazed into Harry’s own laughing eyes. He chuckled, looking at her with a sense of adoration, in a way no one had ever looked at her before. She felt as though he was looking into her soul, seeing everything about her. And the peculiar thing was, she wanted him to.

 

~*~*~

“So, you guys didn’t even know each other until the show?” asked Olivia, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater in an attempt to cover her hands. As warm as the afternoon had been, the ocean breeze brought a chill to the night. Harry had ventured to his car earlier and found a couple of sweaters and a lap blanket, which they’d wrapped around their knees. The logical thing would have been to call it a night and head to their respective homes, but though it was after midnight, they still didn’t want to end the date.

Harry shook his head, taking Olivia’s cold hands in his and rubbing them vigorously. “No, none of them,” he answered. “We all came in and auditioned as solo artists, but didn’t really make it far. When we got cut, we were all pretty gutted over it… but then Simon came up with this idea of putting us in a group. And we were just like… sure.”

“Was that weird?” Olivia wondered, resting her head against Harry’s shoulder. “Like, being solo and then being in this group with guys you didn’t even know?”

“I think if it happened now, it’d be weird. But we were all so young, and just wanted to perform, and this was our opportunity,” Harry explained. “We were just excited to not go home. We were more concerned about what we were gonna wear than anything,” he added with a chuckle.

“Priorities,” agreed Olivia, echoing Harry’s chuckle. “What song did you sing for your audition?”

“Me, by myself?” Harry asked for clarification. When Olivia nodded affirmatively, he smiled, almost wistfully at the memory. “Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder.”

“That’s a great song,” Olivia told him, somewhat surprised by his song choice. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but not that. She lifted her head, looking at Harry with a smile. “Sing it now.”

He looked at her, matching her smile. “Now?” he asked, sounding surprised by her request.

Olivia nodded. “I haven’t heard you sing,” she told him, still smiling. “Please?” she added, her tone almost pleading with him.

“Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “Just cause you’re pretty,” he added teasingly, squeezing her hand. He cleared his throat, and Olivia got the sense he was nervous about singing in front of her.

“Isn’t she lovely?” he began, piercing the quiet night air with his voice, clear yet raspy, with a strong vibrato. “Isn't she wonderful? Isn't she precious? Less than one minute old. I never thought through love we'd be making one as lovely as she. But isn't she lovely, made from love.”

“Wow…” Olivia stated after a moment, trying to rein in her emotions. Midway through the song, she’d felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t know if it was Harry’s voice, the song, the feelings she was developing for him, or a combination of all three, but something triggered something inside of her. She cleared her throat, hoping to rid the lump and appear composed.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she told him, hearing her voice crack slightly as she spoke. Harry turned to look at her, a peculiar look on his face as he heard her voice. His face softened as he looked at her and he smiled at Olivia, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” he answered, planting a gentle kiss on her temple. “Can I tell you something that might sound conceited, but it’s not meant to be?”

Olivia laughed, settling her head against Harry’s shoulder once more. “Of course,” she answered, relieved he didn’t press her about her emotions. She was fairly certain he was used to girls crying when he sang, anyway.

“I sort of expected you to, like… Google me… after we met at the bar,” he confessed, sounding sheepish at the notion. “I know that sounds incredibly presumptuous of me,” he quickly added. “But it’s just… rare, I guess… for someone to not know something about me.”

“I did Google you, actually,” Olivia confessed, shrugging apologetically. “But… I felt weird doing it. Like voyeuristic or something like that. So I just looked for, like, two seconds… and then stopped.” She lifted her head and looked at Harry, smiling softly. “I wanted to get to know you from you… not from the internet.”

Harry exhaled loudly, his smile conveying nothing but relief at her statement. She suddenly realised that she wasn’t the only one feeling trepidation about the other party’s intentions. It would be naïve of Olivia to think she was the only one out of the two of them who’d fell victim to fool’s gold. How many times had Harry been used for his wealth or his fame, for someone else’s gain? The thought broke her heart and infuriated her at the same time.  
“Where did you come from?” he mumbled rhetorically, leaning his forehead against Olivia’s. She smiled at him, pressing her lips to his.

“It’s a secret,” she teased him, though she was wondering the exact same thing about him.

~*~*~

“He was stricter with Steph and Jess, but yeah… just kind of a stodgy old man,” Olivia joked, describing her father to Harry. Her voice was muffled, as she was stretched out on her stomach, using her arms as a pillow. Harry was stretched out beside her, their arms touching as they shared more childhood anecdotes with each other. “I got away with more, only because I think he was burned out by the time I was a teenager!”

“I’m sure you made life incredibly simple for him,” Harry teased, a hint of a grin visible.

“I was perfect!” Olivia retorted. She paused, letting out a giggle. “At least as far as my dad knows, anyway,” she corrected.

Harry chuckled, reaching out and pulling Olivia closer to him. He rested his head on her back, his chin grinding into her shoulder, but she didn’t care. “Wow,” he said suddenly. “It’s getting light out.”

Olivia turned her head, away from the shade of the cliff and looked further down the beach. Harry was right. A few stars were still barely visible, but most of them had disappeared, giving way to the greyish-pink rays poking in from the East.

“Have you really talked my ear off all night?” Olivia asked Harry teasingly. He reached around, squeezing her stomach playfully.

“I think that award goes to you, darling,” he told her, the word hanging in the air after he’d spoken it. Olivia grinned, liking the way it sounded on his lips.

“Oh, psh,” she scoffed, dismissing his comment with a flick of her wrist as she reached for her purse. She hadn’t looked at her phone all night – appreciatively, neither did Harry – and while it was lovely for the both of them to be unplugged and focused on each other, she realised she should have checked in with her sister before –.

“Five a.m!” Olivia yelped, the numbers on the phone seeming more real to her than the changing sky. “And five missed calls from my sister, and about eight thousand texts,” she added with a sigh, showing Harry the screen. He laughed, holding his phone up for Olivia to see.

“’Bout the same,” he chuckled. “Think she’s had a stroke yet?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Olivia answered, laughing as her fingers flew across the keyboard, assuring Stephanie that she was alive. She tossed the phone back into her purse and looked at Harry. Despite the sudden realisation that she was exhausted – and likely looked it too – she still didn’t want to leave.

Olivia exhaled loudly, punctuating the sigh with a shrug. “Well… I don’t want to say this…” she began, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“I know,” Harry answered, uttering a sigh of his own. “But I suppose I should let you sleep…”

“Maybe,” Olivia agreed sullenly, stifling a yawn. Harry laughed and stood up, offering his hands to Olivia and helping her up. Once standing, Harry wrapped his arms around Olivia, holding her tight as the two of them stood silently together.

“I kind of don’t want to let you go,” he whispered into her ear.

“Then don’t,” Olivia whispered back. Harry pulled away slightly and looked into Olivia’s eyes, both of them attempting to determine what her words meant. Even though she was the one who spoke them, Olivia wasn’t sure what she meant – literally, figuratively, indefinitely. But she knew, whether Harry was physically holding her or not, he was going to have a hold on her.

~*~*~

“Well,” Harry said unnecessarily, pulling into Stephanie’s driveway. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Olivia echoed, the statement coming out as one, long sigh. She looked at the house and back at Harry, biting her lip. She knew what she wanted to say, but it was stupid to even bring it up. She was leaving in less than a week. The smart thing to do would be to remember the date as a wonderful night and file it along with the other wonderful dates she’d been on. But, Olivia wasn’t always the smartest person.

“I want to see you again.”

“Can I see you again?”

They laughed in unison as their voices overlapped, reminiscent of the night in the bar. Harry took Olivia’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb along hers. “I’d like that,” he told her, his voice sounding hoarse with drowsiness.

“Me, too,” Olivia agreed, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I had a really amazing time with you,” she told him honestly. “I haven’t…” She paused, smiling at Harry. “Thank you,” she said instead.

“I had such an incredible time with you,” Harry answered, his grin stretched from ear-to-ear. He cupped her face with his hands and pulled her closer. Though languid, their lips found each other eagerly, the curve of his smile and warmth of his mouth having a sense of home.

“I’m gonna let you get some sleep,” Harry told Olivia, pressing his lips to hers in a quick peck. “And then… I’m gonna call you tomorrow morning, and we’ll make a plan, okay?”

“Deal,” Olivia agreed, already excitedly anticipating seeing Harry again. She leaned forward, offering her lips to Harry one more time. As the peck became more urgent in nature, she pulled back, grinning at him.

“I’d better leave now, before I don’t,” she told him cheekily, hand on the car door handle.

He nodded. “Stick around much longer and I won’t let you leave,” Harry teased back, running his fingers through Olivia’s hair. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised her. “But maybe not soon enough,” he added, a teasing statement with an abundance of truth behind it.


	10. Chapter Ten

Being so exhilarated from her date with Harry, Olivia was certain sleep would be impossible to find. Her mind was racing, her heart was fluttering, and all she wanted to do was wake up her sister to discuss every single detail of the night. But, despite Stephanie’s worrisome texts from earlier in the night, she’d managed to fall asleep, evident by the light snores coming from the master bedroom. Girl talk would have to wait.

With a dreamy sigh, Olivia flopped into her bed, feeling wide awake. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Harry. She could still taste his soft lips against hers, feel his hands on her, hear his adorable laugh. They’d only just said goodbye, but she found she missed him terribly already. She wondered if he missed her too. She wondered if she was crazy for missing him. Then, she realised she didn’t care.

Olivia rolled over, wrapping her arms around the pillow. She wondered if she should just stay up. There was no way she’d fall asleep…

~*~*~*~

“Hey. Auntie Livvy. Hey. He-ee-ey!”

Olivia let out a groan and opened one eye. Mia was kneeling on the bed, bouncing slightly as she stared at her aunt. Seeing Olivia’s eyes open, Mia grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, good!” she exclaimed. “You’re awake!” She paused, looking at Olivia with scrutiny. “Why do you have mascara on your cheek?” she asked. “It’s for your eyes,” she added, proud of her knowledge.

Olivia sighed, rolling onto her back and stretching her legs. “I forgot to wash my face last night before bed,” she told Mia, wiping her hands across her cheeks and wondering how haggard the rest of her looked.

Mia made a face, but nodded sympathetically. “Is that why your face sometimes looks like this?” she asked, waving her hands in front of her face erratically. Olivia wasn’t sure what the motion meant, but she was certain it wasn’t a compliment.

“Totally,” Olivia answered, stifling a yawn. “Why are you in my room, anyway?” she asked, watching as Mia reached into her ever-present Paw Patrol backpack and pulled out a doll comb.

“Mommy said I could come wake you up,” Mia answered, taking a lock of Olivia’s hair and carefully dragging the comb through it. “Because we already had lunch, and you haven’t even had breakfast yet!” she added incredulously.

“Really?” Olivia answered, stretching again. She reached for her phone and peered at the time. Almost one in the afternoon. She was surprised she’d slept so long when she didn’t think she’d be able to at all, but she was more surprised her sister let her sleep as late as she did.

“Yeah,” Mia answered, still working the plastic comb through her aunt’s hair. “We had carrot sticks, and Violet didn’t eat all of hers, but I did,” she boasted, vegetable eating being a massive deal in the Gilbert household.

“Good job, kid,” Olivia replied, pushing the blankets off her and gently removing Mia’s hand from her hair. “Go tell Mom I’m having a shower and then I’ll come downstairs and eat all of my carrot sticks too.”

“Deal!” Mia chirped affirmatively, bouncing off the bed and bolting from the guest room, awkwardly struggling to pull her backpack back on as she ran. Olivia sat up, rubbing her eyes again and smiling softly at the memories of the night before. She touched her lips gently. They were chapped from the action they experienced, but deliciously so. The skin around her mouth was tender and raw from Harry’s bit of stubble, but she knew Stephanie had an arsenal of skin care products. Even if she didn’t, Olivia wouldn’t have cared. It was worth it.

~*~*~*~

“Ah, there you are, my little Sleeping Beauty,” Stephanie cooed playfully as Olivia entered the kitchen, still bleary-eyed. “Sit down. Guzzle coffee. Tell me everything!”

Olivia grinned lazily at her sister before selecting the largest coffee mug from the cupboard. She filled it to the brim and took a large swallow. “Oh, my God,” she sighed, letting the coffee seep into her before refilling her cup and taking a seat at the island counter next to Stephanie.

“Is that oh my God for the coffee or the date?” Stephanie asked eagerly, leaning forward, preparing for the gossip. Having been with only her husband, Stephanie liked to live vicariously through Olivia’s dating life – though it had been awhile since she’d been able to.

“Well, for the coffee,” Olivia admitted with a laugh. “But… Oh. My. God!” she added, clutching Stephanie’s hand and letting out a girlish giggle. Stephanie squeezed Olivia’s hand and squealed excitedly.

“Okay, so I do know you had a picnic,” Stephanie told Olivia. “Harry texted me and asked me about all of your favourite junk food. I almost lied and told him shit you hated, but thought that would have been a dick move,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But kinda funny!”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Olivia answered, her voice still high-pitched and giggly. “The snacks were totally adorable, but like… everything was adorable. I felt like I was in a movie,” she added, her face flushing with exhilaration.

“Start at the very beginning,” Stephanie demanded, sliding a tray of veggies to Olivia. “So, he picks you up… Was he on time?”

“He was like ten minutes early,” Olivia answered, helping herself to a piece of cucumber. “Which, I know you would have freaked out about, but I was super happy,” she added, poking fun at Stephanie’s lack of punctuality.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stephanie said with a roll of her eyes. “Did he kiss you when he got here?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, but I wanted to,” she replied. “But it was like…” She held her hands up, mimicking a scale. “Does he want to? Is it too soon? But we hugged, and he smelled so good and, oh God, I almost melted right there,” she gushed, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, I bet,” Stephanie said with a dreamy sigh. “He’s so hot!”

Olivia held up a warning finger. “Back off,” she instructed teasingly. “But, I know!” She sighed again. “But he’s not just hot. Like, he’s actually the nicest guy I’ve ever met in my life. He’s so kind and so respectful. I don’t really even think he’s from Earth,” she added with a chuckle.

“He is pretty heavenly,” Stephanie quipped. “So where did he take you?”

Olivia paused to take a gulp of coffee. “This little beach, like ten minutes away,” she answered, gesturing. There’s just a wide spot on the road to park and this super narrow path down to the water. It was so private, and pretty romantic,” she admitted with a bashful smile.

Stephanie swatted her sister playfully. “Did the Queen of ‘I Hate Romance’ actually have fun on a romantic date?” she asked, pretending to be shocked.

It was true – Olivia had always harped about not liking romance, about how a date at a bar, playing darts and drinking beer was far superior to some lame beach date, watching the sunset. She prided herself on being an easy-going girl, one who didn’t need all of the pomp and circumstance to have a good time. The thought of a beach date, or a candlelit dinner, or a stroll through a park made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. But now, having been on the romantic date and feeling anything but uncomfortable, she realised it was the past men – and not the actual date – that was the cause of her discomfort.

Olivia shrugged sheepishly. “It was just…” She trailed off, trying to find a word to describe her date with Harry. “Perfect,” she determined, letting out another giggle.

Stephanie rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her sister. It was nice to see Olivia so happy after months of unhappiness. “So, how long did it take before you kissed again? And was that all you did?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at Olivia suggestively.

“That’s all,” Olivia assured her sister. “I mean, not all,” she corrected. “Kissing him is incredible,” she said with another dreamy sigh. “We were kind of like… you know when you just want to touch someone, so you find any excuse to? I poked his stomach and he…” she stopped, chuckling to herself at the memory. “He told me that tickling was against the law. And if I did it, he’d have to kiss me,” she finished, covering her face abashedly.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Stephanie exclaimed. “That is disgustingly cute!”

“I know!” Olivia exclaimed back, her voice muffled by her hands. “It was so freakin’ cute, I can’t even believe it happened!”

“It’s so incredibly cute!” Stephanie agreed with a sigh. “Shit, I need to get divorced,” she joked, standing up and walking around the island to the coffee pot. She refilled her coffee before joining Olivia again. “So, you just stayed at the beach? Til morning? And just talked?”

“I mean, mostly,” Olivia answered, giggling as her face heated up. “But we did talk a lot. About, like… everything. And… he sang, too,” Olivia added, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering at the thought of Harry’s voice. “I asked him to, and… he did.”

“What did he sing?” Stephanie asked, resting her chin on her hand, focussing intently on her sister’s story.

“Isn’t She Lovely,” Olivia replied. “It’s the song he sang on the X-Factor. It like… almost made me cry,” she confessed sheepishly. She shook her head, still confused by the emotions she felt. “I don’t know why. It was beautiful, but I…” She shook her head again, feeling the same lump enter her throat again. But this time, in the comfort of her sister’s home and her guard down, the lump prevailed and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Oh, my God,” Olivia said with a wavering laugh. She grabbed a nearby napkin and dabbed at her eyes beneath her glasses. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I must be freakin’ exhausted,” she determined, uttering another high-octave chuckle.

“You’re actually crying!” Stephanie exclaimed, clutching Olivia’s hand tightly and shaking it up and down. “Oh, my God! You’re so smitten!”

“I’m not crying,” Olivia retorted, yanking her hand away from Stephanie. She took a shaky breath and waved her hands in front of her eyes to rid the pool of tears. “It was just a… I don’t know! This super sweet moment… I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, shrugging helplessly. “It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” she asked, realising she hoped Stephanie disagreed with her. “Feeling all fluttery like this after just one date…”

“Well, it wasn’t really one date,” Stephanie argued. Olivia furrowed her brow with confusion. Stephanie wasn’t always a math whiz, but even she could count to one. “I mean, you were with him for, what, twelve hours? That’s like… at least three dates,” she explained, counting on her fingers. “And then the bar counts as a hangout, and then you guys kissed here and flirted all night, and had stupid jokes about cheese…” Stephanie rolled her eyes and chuckled softly, holding up five fingers. “It’s not weird to feel the way you’re feeling,” she assured Olivia.

Olivia giggled again, covering her mouth sheepishly. “Oh, gosh!” she laughed, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe how much I like this guy! I feel like I miss him, and I saw him, what, six hours ago? This is so weird,” she said again, unable to stop laughing but tears still forming behind her eyes.

Stephanie snickered, Olivia’s laughter contagious. “It’s adorable,” she corrected, rubbing her sister’s arm comfortingly. “When are you seeing him again?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia answered with a shrug. “We both said we wanted to see each other again. At the same time,” she added, giggling. “He said he was going to let me sleep and call me tomorrow. I wish he’d call me today,” she confessed, checking her phone.

“Call him,” Stephanie answered simply. “The whole thing about who calls who is just crap. If you want to, you do it. Plus, he likes you, so he’d totally dig you calling him.”

Olivia nodded slowly. Stephanie was right. She was also a thirty-one year old woman, and playing childish games about who called who, or who texted first, or whether there was enough hours between the asking and the actual date weren’t games she wanted to play.

“You’re right,” Olivia told her sister. “I’ll give him a bit longer to sleep, and then I’ll call him.” She giggled bashfully. “Oh, gosh, I can’t wait to hear his voice again!”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later, Olivia was sprawled out in bed, toying with her phone. Despite her earlier pep talk about being a grown ass woman who doesn’t play games, she still felt unbearably nervous at the thought of calling Harry. She stared at his profile in her address book for ages, working up the nerve to press the little green phone icon.

“Just press the fucking button, you loser,” she told herself sternly, tapping her finger against the screen a beat later and feeling her stomach tumble with nerves. As she heard the first ring echo through her phone, she knew it was officially too late to chicken out and hang up.

“He-hello?” Harry greeted Olivia, his voice sounding peculiar, as though he was questioning why she was phoning him.

“Hi!” Olivia said, a bit too enthusiastically. “Uhm… it’s Olivia,” she added unnecessarily, mentally kicking herself.

“That’s so weird,” Harry said, laughing. “I was just going to call you. I had your name up and everything. I thought maybe I’d pressed the button without knowing I did.”

“Oh!” Olivia answered, relieved that was why he sounded off. “Good, I was hoping you weren’t sleeping or something.”

“No, no,” Harry assured her. “I’d have answered anyway,” he added, and she could hear his cheeky smile through the phone.

Olivia smiled. “Good, good,” she replied, the butterflies beginning to wake up and take flight. “Did you sleep well?”

“Eh,” Harry answered. “Not really. Tried to, but I kept thinking about this pretty girl I know. She’s a bit of a distraction,” he added cheekily.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to supress the girlish giggle that was fighting to come out. “She sounds like a real brat,” she teased, uttering a quick chuckle.

Harry laughed loudly. “Naw, but she’s a really good kisser,” he teased back.

Olivia felt her face flush and the giggle managed to escape. “Oh, gosh!” she laughed. “Well, she sounds pretty awesome,” she determined, wanting to jump up and down at being called a good kisser.

“Oh, she is,” he assured her. “But how about you, did you sleep? I’m sorry for keeping you out so late,” he added, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Don’t apologise,” Olivia told him. “I didn’t want to leave even when I did,” she told him, her thumb subconsciously finding its way to her lips as she remembered their goodbye kiss. “I did sleep a bit, but I… I was thinking about you a bit, too,” she confessed, another giggle escaping.

“You were?” asked Harry, sounding delighted at the thought. “What were you thinking about?”

Olivia blushed. She wasn’t going to tell him everything she’d thought about – not yet, anyway. “I was just thinking that… I had such a good time with you… and that I can’t wait to see you again,” she told him, feeling warmth throughout her body at her confession.

“I can’t wait to see you too,” Harry echoed, his words bringing a wide smile to Olivia’s face. “I wish I could tonight, but I’ve got my stupid bandmates coming by,” he told her, sounding sullen at the thought.

“It’s okay,” Olivia assured him, rolling onto her back and climbing her feet up the headboard. “Steph wants me to go to a hockey game tonight, anyway. I’d probably have more fun with you, though,” she admitted, a surprising realization for her, as live hockey games were one of Olivia’s favourite things.

“Probably,” Harry agreed, the cheeky grin evident in his voice again. “Is it too soon to ask to see you tomorrow?” he asked, sounding hesitant. “’Cause… I’d really like to.”

Olivia smiled, placing her hand on her stomach, as though to calm the butterflies. “I’d like that too,” she answered, certain her own smile was apparent over the phone line.

“What would you think if I asked you over here?” he asked, still sounding hesitant. “I mean, I know it’s not probably, like… the greatest plan, but I just don’t want you to be… Like, if there’s photographers out or something… I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. And I can pick you up, and I can bring you back. That’s not a problem at all. I just want you to be comfortable, so whatever makes you that, then… that...”

Harry didn’t speak terribly fast normally, but as he was describing his plans to Olivia, his voice accelerated to the point that she had a hard time understanding him. When he’d finished rambling, all she could do was gently laugh.

“That sounds perfect,” she assured him, appreciative that he was so concerned about her comfort. She knew if she spent much more time with Harry, photographers would be a factor, but she didn’t want to think about that right now, or think about what would be said about her. All she wanted to do was countdown the hours until she could see Harry again.

“Oh, good,” he said, noticeably exhaling. “Can I pick you up at, say, two?”

“Two sounds perfect,” Olivia smiled, counting quickly on her fingers. T-Minus twenty-one hours.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The atmosphere at the Gilbert house was vastly different on Sunday afternoon than the first time Harry picked Olivia up. There wasn’t a need for Stephanie to usher her chaotic family to the park, so rather than a quiet, calm home, the squeals and shouts coming from the kids could be heard from the driveway. When Harry leaned on the doorbell shortly before two, Olivia was standing at the top of the stairs, holding a screaming toddler in her arms. Her sister was in the midst of moderating World War III between the girls and Jeff was attempting to pack for his upcoming road trip.

“Steph, I have to go!” Olivia called impatiently, bouncing Jase on her hip, and seeming to irritate him more. For being just two, Jase knew when his dad was getting ready to leave and he didn’t handle it well. Today was no exception.

“I don’t care if Barbie told you to; she did not want a bath in the toilet!”

Olivia groaned loudly and, not wanting to leave Harry out on the porch – though not really wanting to subject him to the ensuing circus – darted down the stairs and pulled open the door.

“Hi!” she greeted breathlessly, the sight of his handsome self causing a wide grin to break out on her face. Jase, however, had the opposite reaction. He assumed that Olivia was taking him far away from his house and his parents. He reached out and braced his pudgy hand on the door jamb, letting out an ear-splitting shriek. Olivia winced at the sound, somewhat amazed that such a powerful sound could come from someone so tiny and – sometimes –cute.

“Hi, yourself,” Harry answered, his dimpled grin seguing into a wince matching Olivia’s. He laughed at Jase, reaching out to tickle the bottom of his bare foot. The toddler whimpered, snuggling closer to Olivia as the strange man spoke to him. “It’s okay, bub,” he told Jase, the coo in his voice sounding adorable to Olivia. “I’m just going to give your pretty auntie a kiss, okay?”

Harry met Olivia’s eyes and grinned at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. Olivia smiled against Harry’s lips, elated that he didn’t feel the need to wait to kiss her. After spending so much time against his lips the last time they were together, she didn’t know how long she could wait to do it again. She braced her hand against Harry’s chest and reminded herself to keep a grip on her nephew, who was silently watching Harry and Olivia, his eyes darting back and forth between the pair.

Harry let out a laugh, pulling away from Olivia for just a moment before pressing his lips against hers again. “I didn’t want to wait,” he admitted with a chuckle, tightening his grip around her waist.

“Good, because I didn’t want to either,” Olivia beamed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Harry again and again wondering how it was possible to feel this way after knowing someone just a short time. Jase had decided he was no longer fascinated by the actions of his aunt and the stranger, and quickly remembered he’d been having a tantrum, which he easily began again.

“Sorry, little man,” Harry added to Jase, poking the child’s round belly. Jase let out another whiny whimper, and Olivia patted Harry’s hand reassuringly.

“He’s not the happiest of campers today,” she told him unnecessarily, shifting Jase higher on her hip. “I’m just going to go get rid of him,” she added, gesturing towards the stairs. Harry nodded before Olivia ascended the stairs, bursting into the bedroom her nieces shared.

“Violet, I cannot understand you when you bark like a dog,” Stephanie was saying as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her daughters in front of her. Olivia plopped Jase on the floor beside his mom, wondering if Stephanie even noticed.

“I’m out of here,” she announced, disappearing from the bedroom before Stephanie could answer. After popping across the hall to say a quick goodbye to her brother-in-law, Olivia bounded back down the stairs, feeling giddy as she saw Harry waiting patiently for her.

“Alright!” she announced happily, picking up her bag from the bottom of the stairs. “I’m all yours,” she told Harry, her statement causing her to utter a girly giggle – something that was quickly becoming par for the course when she was with Harry… or thinking about Harry… or talking about Harry...

He chuckled, keeping his eyes on Olivia as she danced down the stairs. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel bashful and sexy at the same time. “That’s what I like to hear,” he told her teasingly.

Olivia smiled as she opened the door and touched Harry’s back, directing him to exit first. She stepped out behind him and in one, swift motion, spun on her heels and faced Harry. She cupped his face between her hands and pulled him to her. Her lips quickly found his and she hungrily devoured his mouth, feeling him reciprocate. It had only been a day since she’d last kissed him, but she felt completely insatiable. Harry grabbed Olivia by her hips and turned her, leaning her against the house. She became completely unaware that it was mid-afternoon in a suburban neighbourhood and was only aware of the feeling of Harry’s fingertips against her hips, the pressure of his body pressed against hers, the taste of his tongue fervently probing her mouth.

Harry let out a low, guttural groan, running his hands up Olivia’s torso, squeezing his strong hands against the side of her breasts. Olivia shivered visibly as she felt his touch, her trembles punctuated by a raspy sigh. She inched her hands down his body, grasping at his hips and tugging his lower body towards hers. She could feel his budding excitement through his tight jeans, and the feeling impassioned Olivia more. Harry’s hands cupped Olivia’s breasts and he broke off their kiss, his lips finding the sensitive area along her neck. Olivia moaned softly, stretching her neck to allow Harry to continue kissing towards her ear. Suddenly, Harry dropped his hands to Olivia’s waist and laughed against her neck as they heard a car door slam across the street.

“We’re on your sister’s porch,” he said, his statement muffled by Olivia’s neck. She joined in with his laughter, the realization of their location becoming apparent as she came down from the high of their fervid make out session.

“We are…” she agreed slowly, meeting Harry’s eyes and licking her lips as she grinned at him. While not normally a fan of PDA, the unexpected public lip lock with Harry was incredibly hot, and she realised she didn’t care if any of Stephanie’s neighbours saw.

Distracted, Harry massaged his hands against Olivia’s back, planting soft kisses along her jawline. He groaned after a moment, pulling himself away from her. “Okay,” he sighed, taking her by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Olivia grinned, pleased Harry was so intoxicated by her. She squeezed his hand, letting him lead her down the stairs towards his car. He opened the door for her and Olivia slid in, keeping her eyes on Harry as he walked around the front of the car. She shook her head slightly – he was so hot!

Harry smiled at Olivia as he plopped into the driver’s seat, seeming almost bashful. He tickled the back of her neck as he stretched his arm across her seat, backing down the driveway. He caught her eye as he shifted out of reverse and rubbed her cheek with his thumb before finding her hand.

“How was the hockey game last night?” he inquired. “Did… we win?” he asked, obviously not remembering the name of his adopted home town’s hockey team.

Chuckling, Olivia shook her head. “No,” she answered. “But I saw some drunk Rangers fan fall down some stairs and spill their beer and nachos, so that was pretty much the highlight of the night.”

Harry laughed, “Poor schmuck,” he determined. “Those beers aren’t cheap!”

“That’s the truth,” Olivia agreed, tickled that someone in Harry’s shoes had an inkling as to how much arena beers cost. “How was your night?”

“It was really good,” answered Harry. “It’s been a long time since we all hung out together… like, before Christmas… so it was definitely… lots of catching up and stuff.”

“Really?” Olivia asked, sounding surprised. “How come it’s been so long?”

“Well, we’ve been on this break, and we’ve all kind of done our own stuff for the last year,” he explained, looking over his shoulder as he maneuvered through the lanes of traffic. “We text and talk all the time, but it’s pretty hard to get all of us together.”

Olivia nodded understandably. She knew how difficult it could be to get her and her sisters all together and that time marched on rather quickly – before you knew it, another year had passed with maybe one quick weekend visit. “So, what did you guys do?” she wondered, always curious as to what boys did when they had “boy’s nights”. Did they gossip and talk about girls, the way girls talked about boys? She wondered if Harry had told them about her.

“We, uh… well. Can you keep a secret?” Harry asked Olivia, flashing her a grin as though he already knew that she would.

“Depends on how juicy it is,” Olivia teased, pretending her hand was a notepad and feigned scribbling in it. Harry grabbed her notepad hand, kissing it.

“Cheeky brat,” he affirmed teasingly before letting their arms rest against the console. “Anyway…” he began, snickering at Olivia. “We’ve been on this break, but now, we’re like… planning our – dun, dun, dun – big comeback.”

“Really?” Olivia asked, grinning at Harry. “That’s super exciting!” she told him, though sounding more excited than she felt. Rather, she felt bad not knowing how big of a deal their return was, or how big of a deal they were before their break. She wondered how kosher it was that she could grind against Harry on her sister’s front porch but be hard pressed to name one of his band’s songs.

Harry nodded, matching Olivia’s grin. “Yeah, we’re incredibly excited for it,” he told her. “It’s still months off, but we’re starting to write and just… really coming together. It just… really feels like the right time. And we’re gonna tour our last album in the fall,” he added, smiling brightly at the thought of touring.

Olivia smiled, but Harry’s announcement about touring left a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t pinpoint why, so she tried to push the thought aside and squeezed his hand. “I might have to risk looking like a grandma and come to one of your shows,” she joked lightly, though the comment having more truth behind it than she intended.

“Better make sure you learn a song or two, then,” Harry teased, elbowing Olivia’s arm and grinning playfully at her. Olivia scoffed, rolling her eyes at Harry.

“I might even learn three,” she teased back, happy that he wasn’t insulted that she didn’t know any of the band’s songs. After discussing it on the beach, she learned she knew one song – Perfect – but barely. She didn’t listen to the radio much, but it was always on in the staff room at work. Olivia strived to spend as little time in the staff room as possible, but during the few minutes a day she ventured to the coffee maker, the song seemed to be playing. In hindsight, she wondered if it was a sign.

“Always striving for perfection, aren’t you?” asked Harry good-naturedly, his statement accented by another squeeze of Olivia’s hand, indicating that he wasn’t insulted by her lack of One Direction knowledge.

“Well, I am a Capricorn, so…” she joked back with a shrug, realising just then that she had no idea when Harry’s birthday was – or his age.

He grinned at her. “When is your birthday, anyway?” he wondered, as though he was inside her head. It wasn’t the first time she felt as though he could read her mind.

“December twenty-fourth,” Olivia answered. “Christmas Eve. Worst birthday ever,” she added with a groan. “Guess how many sleepovers I got to have on my birthday? I’ll tell you… none.” She finished her complaint with an exaggerated pout.

Harry chuckled. “That’s Louis’ birthday, too,” he told her. “He says the same. Well, not about the sleepovers… but probably.”

“That’s funny. Small world,” Olivia commented, wondering if it was, again, a sign, that one of his best friends shared her birthday. She knew it was a rare birthday, but decided it would be more of a sign if she shared a birthday with Harry.

“When’s yours?” she asked him, praying he wasn’t more than a decade younger than she was. He’d told her on the beach that his music career began when he was sixteen, but she had no idea how long it’d been going on for. She realised they’d spent more time making out than trading life facts. Not that she was complaining…

“February first,” he answered, “Nineteen ninety-four,” he added, casting a sideways glance at Olivia, appearing to try to gauge her reaction.

Olivia was silent, doing the quick math in her head. Nine years, but closer to eight, as she was born at the end of the year and him at the start. She grinned at Harry after a moment, tickling the palm of his hand.

“Good thing I like younger men,” she teased him. She did, but granted, they generally weren’t as young as Harry. She didn’t tell him that, though. She found herself realising that she didn’t care about his age. He could be twenty-three, thirty-three, forty-three… she would still feel exactly the same way about him.

~*~*~

“Well, here we are,” Harry comment unnecessarily, driving slowly up the long driveway as the gate opened. Aside from the gate – which everyone and their dog had in Los Angeles – the house was not as ostentatious as she’d expected. It was quite a modern home, which usually wasn’t her style, but Olivia found herself loving it already.

“It’s beautiful,” she told Harry as he pulled into the garage. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach at the realisation that this was the first time they were completely alone. There was always a chance someone could have come across them on the beach, and her sister had been around them the other times. She wondered if they would continue what they’d begun on Stephanie’s front porch. She knew she definitely wanted to, but she also knew she wanted it to be more than just physical with Harry.

But with the distance, could it be more?

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, “It’s got a great view,” he added, leading Olivia into the house. She was immediately met with a repugnant smell but bit her tongue from commenting. It didn’t bode well for Harry’s housekeeping skills, and she was about to take a point away from him when she realised it wasn’t bad housekeeping. It was burned food.

“What’s that?” she asked hesitantly, noting the look on Harry’s face and knowing he smelled it too.

His face paled, grimacing. “I put… well, I mean… it shouldn’t have burned!” He led Olivia to the kitchen, where the smell was more prominent. The oven was dark, the counters clear – save for a pristine-looking slow cooker with an orange light glowing from the centre of the appliance. Harry strode across the kitchen and pulled off the lid. The smoke building up inside the slow cooker erupted from the machine, billowing under the cupboards and filling the room.

Olivia covered her mouth, first in shock and then to stifle a giggle. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone burn something inside a slow cooker. She had been certain they were dummy-proof but Harry – sweet, adorable Harry – was quickly proving her wrong.

“It still had two hours!” Harry exclaimed, waving his hand in front of the slow cooker in an attempt to rid the smoke. “Are you laughing?” he asked Olivia incredulously, though his own mouth was quirking upwards.

“No,” Olivia answered, the word filled with vibrato as she abandoned her attempt to hide her laughter. She braced her hands on her knees, doubling over with laughter. She felt a modicum of shame laughing at Harry, when he’d obviously been trying so sweetly to cook her dinner, but the situation was hilarious to her.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest, trying to sound annoyed. “I try and cook a nice meal for you, like a nice guy, and…” He trailed off, watching Olivia laugh for a moment before allowing himself a chuckle. “Why’re you so cute when you laugh?” He wondered, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m sorry!” Olivia laughed, not sounding sorry at all as she linked her arms around Harry’s back. “I’ve just never seen this before! And I’ve lived in dorms with someone who cooked cookies in a toaster oven! I’ve seen some shit…” she added, planting a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Thank you, though… for supper… I think?” she told him, struggling to get the compliment out without laughing.

Harry laughed, Olivia’s giggles contagious. “You have to eat it,” he instructed her. “Otherwise, I’ll feel bad. You don’t want that, do you?”

Olivia snickered, hugging Harry tightly. “Well, I’d rather that than that,” she teased, indicating to the hot slow cooker. “What’s it supposed to be, anyway? Oh, wait!” she told him, pulling away and giving him a cheeky grin. “I subbed an art class for a couple weeks. We’re not supposed to ask that. Instead… can you tell me about the supper?” she asked, querying in her best teacher voice.

“Fuck off,” Harry laughed, gripping Olivia’s shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. “It was supposed to be the best chicken of your life,” he told her, peering into the pot. The black blocks of chicken were still floating in a sea of liquid, so it was a bit peculiar that they’d burned so tremendously. “I suppose now, I have to find another way to impress you,” he told her sassily, his words insinuating much more than what was said.

“I’m sure you can,” Olivia answered cheekily. “But… on an empty stomach?” she asked, gesturing to the slow cooker and cracking up again.

“I swear, I followed the recipe exactly!” Harry exclaimed. He broke away from Olivia and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through it until he found what he was looking for. “It’s just faulty electrical… it has to be…” he mused as he read through the recipe. After a moment, he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “What?” he muttered to himself, stepping to his dishwasher and pulling out a used Pyrex measuring cup. He looked at the cup, then his phone and back again before grinning sheepishly at Olivia.

“So… I guess… I filled this with honey,” he confessed, holding up the two-cup measuring cup. “Uhm… I guess they changed the recipe on me… and it should have been to here…” he told Olivia, pointing to the half-cup mark.

Olivia snorted, not bothering with covering her mouth as she erupted with laughter. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to cover Harry’s sweet face with kisses. His effort was adorable – unsuccessful as all get out, but beyond precious. She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are so sweet,” she told him, nuzzling his neck. “I’m sorry for laughing,” she told him, her voice still clouded with laughter.

“You are not,” Harry told her with a chuckle, running his hands up and down Olivia’s back. “But, as long as I get an A for effort…” He trailed off, kissing her cheek.

Olivia pulled away, meeting Harry’s eyes with a smile. “Thank you,” she told him sincerely. She didn’t care about the lingering smell of burned chicken-and-honey in the kitchen. He’d tried to cook her a delicious supper, and despite his epic failure, Olivia couldn’t have been more smitten.


	12. ChapterTwelve

“And finally…,” Harry stepped out the door and gestured to the small, curved pool surrounded by lush, vibrant foliage. If she hadn’t just seen the houses surrounding Harry’s, Olivia would be convinced they were in the middle of nowhere. Privacy in the middle of Los Angeles seemed to be an oxymoron, but Harry had it.

“It’s great,” she determined, smiling at Harry, who seemed bashful giving Olivia the tour of his house – or maybe he was still bashful from his chicken fiasco. But she’d insisted, and like the gentleman he was, he obliged. He’d led her through the entire house, save for the master suite. Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see it later.

“It’s pretty nice,” he agreed, watching as Olivia crouched down to stick her hand in the water, testing the temperature. “That’s a bit tempting,” he mused with a grin, stepping towards Olivia and placing his hands on her shoulders. He gave her a quick nudge, as though he was about to push her into the pool. She instinctively braced her hand against the concrete and looked up at Harry, attempting to glare.

“You wouldn’t even,” she challenged him, reaching up and grabbing Harry’s hand from her shoulder and giving it a tug, pretending to pull him into the water. He didn’t budge, but tightened his grip on her hand. Using his hand as a crutch, Olivia stood up.

“I’m not sure if I trust you,” she confessed teasingly. Harry let out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Olivia’s waist and pulling her close.

“Sweetheart, I promise… you can trust me,” he told her, pressing a kiss against her forehead. His words insinuated so much more than just a lighthearted jab about being pushed into the water.

“I know,” Olivia realised, resting her head against Harry’s chest and draping her arms loosely around his waist. Hearing his slow heartbeat, feeling his comforting arms around her, Olivia felt at home with Harry. Still, the thought of her imminent departure from Los Angeles lingered in her mind.

Harry smiled down at Olivia, “Good,” he told her, swaying his hips slightly as he heard a song in his head that Olivia wasn’t privy to. He took her hand, holding it against his chest as he hummed the song and took her other hand, placing it from his waist to his shoulder. Olivia laughed as Harry led her into a spin before pulling her back to him, continuing to hum. She couldn’t pinpoint the song, but it didn’t matter.

“Sorry!” Harry whispered sheepishly, his socked foot stomping Olivia’s bare toes. She laughed again, ducking under his arm as he spun her. He directed her to turn the wrong way, causing their joined hands to break apart as they attempted to regain their proper form.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Olivia gently teased Harry, her statement coated with affection. His mouth dropped open, pretending to be aghast at her comment.

“What!” he exclaimed. “I’m terrific!” As though to prove his statement, he moved his hand down Olivia’s back, lowering her into a dip. But his socked feet against the concrete didn’t provide support and when his foot slid out from behind him, he couldn’t keep his grip on Olivia and she dropped. Her bottom bumped against the concrete and Harry’s eyes widened as he watched his dance partner tumble.

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?” he questioned anxiously, kneeling beside Olivia. “I’m so sorry!”

Olivia started to laugh, leaning back on her hands and throwing her head back as she cackled loudly. The fall had surprised her, but hadn’t hurt. Seeing Harry crouched above her, his face concerned as though she’d just been in a drastic accident, tickled her, though warmed her heart at the same time.

“I told you that you were terrible,” she teased him, touching his cheek affectionately. Harry snickered at Olivia before bracing his hands against the cement on either side of her.

“That’s what I get for trying to be adorably sweet, huh?” he mused playfully, leaning down towards her. “You laugh at my cooking… laugh at my dancing… What am I going to do with you?” He wondered, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and staring into her eyes inquisitively.

“You could kiss me,” Olivia suggested, her voice sounding husky. “I wouldn’t laugh at that.”

“I don’t know…” Harry contemplated, his hand finding Olivia’s. “You might…”

“Try me,” she whispered to him, a cheeky grin upon her face.

Harry shook his head slowly, his eyes twinkling. “I’m not sure if I should risk it…” he told her, his lips lightly brushing against hers teasingly. He pressed his lips against the side of her mouth, narrowly missing her lips. “But… I guess if you really want me to…”

Olivia shrugged indifferently, pretending not to care but instinctively biting the edge of her lower lip, drawing attention. Harry laughed at her subconscious proposition, his lips connecting with hers. Olivia smiled against Harry’s lips, emitting light moans into his mouth. He lifted his hand, cradling her head as he gently lowered Olivia into a laying down position against the warm concrete. Her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping his upper body pressed against hers. Her legs remained bent at the knees and Olivia was acutely aware of her sundress riding up towards her hips.

Harry was aware of Olivia’s exposed legs as well, as he ran his hand along her smooth skin, stopping short as he reached the leg of her panties. He tucked his finger under the fabric, tugging gently on the seam. Olivia sharply inhaled as she felt his touch, her tongue reaching through their kiss and nudging his own. He pushed back, their kiss finding new urgency. Olivia’s hips lifted, silently telling Harry to keep doing what he was doing. His hand lightly ran along the fabric, finding the waistband of her panties and slipping a finger under. Olivia bucked her hips again, using her body to prod Harry into removing her undergarment.

“Ahh… wait,” he sighed out apologetically, sitting up straight and pulling Olivia’s dress back down towards her knees. She sat up, criss-crossing her legs and furrowing her brow curiously at Harry. Were they moving too fast? She knew she’d been against sleeping with him when she first met him, but things had changed. They were two consenting adults – did the length of time they’d known each other matter?

Suddenly sheepish at her lustful desire, Olivia clasped her hands in her lap, staring down at them. “I’m sorry,” she apologised before Harry could say anything further. “Got a little too into that,” she admitted, keeping her eyes downcast.

“No, no, no!” Harry quickly assured Olivia, lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him. Their gaze fused, he sweetly placed a gentle kiss against her lips. He chucked into her mouth, his eyes crinkling.

“I want this,” he whispered, his voice gravelly. “I want you. But sweetheart… we’re on cement,” he told Olivia, gesturing to the landscaping surrounding them. He snickered guiltily at himself. “That’s not right… You’re not comfortable.” He ran his fingers through her hair again, kissing her on her cheek.

Olivia beamed, relieved he wasn’t putting a stop to the impending intimacy. She took his face in both of her hands, delicately intermingling her lips with his. The rough texture of the concrete against her bare skin wasn’t ideal but Olivia hadn’t cared. But the respect Harry showed for her by putting a stop to the outdoor rendezvous in favour of a comfortable, indoor coupling was heartwarming.

“Thank you,” Olivia told Harry sincerely. She tenderly massaged her fingers along his jawline and grinned coyly at him. “Guess you’d better finish giving me the tour, then,” she teased suggestively.

“I think I’d better,” Harry agreed, laughing as he took Olivia’s hands and pulled her to her feet. She was barely steady before he ravenously kissed her, stumbling backwards towards the house. Olivia attempted to guide him around the patio furniture, but was understandably distracted by Harry’s passion. They giggled in unison as Harry led Olivia directly into a low end table, a decorative pot crashing to the ground.

The journey from the pool to his bedroom took longer than it should have, as neither Harry nor Olivia could walk more than a couple of steps before having to taste the other’s soft lips. Harry’s hands ferociously covered Olivia’s back, hitching the skirt of her dress up higher and higher as they ascended the stairs towards his bedroom. Her hands were under his shirt, feeling his soft skin and hastily tugging on the fabric. At the top of the stairs, Harry breathlessly pulled away from Olivia, pulling his shirt off in one swift moment. She stared at his bare chest for a moment, taking in his sex appeal before Harry’s tongue found its way back to Olivia’s mouth.

Harry tripped over his feet, reaching behind him and feeling for the doorknob. The latch gave way and the two of them stumbled into his bedroom. Without breaking their kiss, Harry turned Olivia and nudged her in the direction of his bed. The backs of her legs bumped against the mattress and she allowed herself to fall backwards onto the bed. She scooted herself back, pulling her legs onto the bed and grinned bashfully at Harry.

He matched her smile, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself above her. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her, his voice quiet. He tugged on the straps of her dress, pulling them off her shoulders and down her arms before doing the same with her bra straps. “Our clothing ratio isn’t quite proportionate though,” he told her cheekily, leaning down to kiss her bare shoulders.

“Uh-oh,” Olivia commented, feeling suddenly shy at the thought of Harry removing her dress and being completely exposed to him. The afternoon sun beat into his bedroom, leaving no imperfections hidden. But Harry’s carnal grin was infectious. “What should we do?” she wondered, her hands toying with his belt buckle.

“Mmm… I think I have an idea,” Harry replied, raising himself onto his knees and kneeling between Olivia’s legs. He ran his hands up her thighs slowly, allowing himself to stop for a moment to playfully tug on her panties. Almost torturously, he let his hands venture across her soft stomach, feeling her pillowly bumps as he inched closer to her breasts. Her dress followed his hands up her torso, exposing her bare stomach. Instinctively, Olivia covered her navel with her hands, not wanting Harry to focus on her untoned abdomen. Almost immediately, Harry took her hands.

“Don’t,” he instructed in a gentle voice, holding her hands above her head. “You’re perfect,” he added before kissing her. Olivia flushed at his words, the belly butterflies taking flight at the sincerity in his voice. He let his hands trail down her arms, so lightly that Olivia’s skin visibly goosebumped. Harry’s hands found the hem of Olivia’s dress, settled against the underside of her breasts. He pushed the dress over her breasts, letting his hands linger against them before pulling the dress over Olivia’s head and discarding it over her shoulders.

“So perfect,” he repeated, tickling his lips along her collarbone. Olivia let out a shaky sigh, his lips feeling electric along her skin. He moved lower, his lips fluttering along her exposed cleavage. Exhaling again, Olivia ran her hands through Harry’s hair, her chest rising towards his warm mouth.

Lifting his head, Harry grinned coyly at Olivia, biting his lip in concentration as he snaked his arms behind her, fiddling with her bra hooks. Olivia giggled, watching his face twist, deep in thought. She raised herself up on her elbows, allowing him easier access. After a moment, she felt her breasts drop as Harry unhinged her bra. He grinned, pleased with himself, as he slowly pulled her straps down. He kept his eyes locked with Olivia’s as he cupped her naked breasts, allowing her bra to fall off of her body.

“I want to see you, sweetheart,” he told her in a husky voice, nudging Olivia onto her back. He kneaded his hands against her breasts, her protruding nipples pushing against his palms. Her head fell back, letting out a soft groan. He leaned into her, driving his lips into hers in a hungry kiss before releasing her breasts. The natural fullness of her C-cups caused her breasts to fall slightly to the side – gravity and age having taken a toll on Olivia’s once perky bosom. Harry leaned back, drinking in Olivia’s curves. She watched him watch her, fighting the urge to cross her arms across her vulnerable chest.

“You’re stunning,” Harry said, seeming to pick up on Olivia’s insecurity. He stretched his legs out behind him, settling atop Olivia, their bare chests finally touching. The feeling of his weight on top of her, and his soft skin rubbing against hers aroused Olivia, and she arched her back, pushing her breasts into him. Her hands traveled down his back, finding the waistband of his jeans. She tugged on the waistband before pulling on the belt buckle, attempting to blindly release the prong.

Sensing Olivia’s struggles, Harry sat back, smirking at her as he opened his belt. “Thanks,” she told him teasingly, sitting up and pushing his hands away from his belt, grasping the button herself. She covered his stomach with sloppy kisses as she undid the button, hearing Harry expel a raspy sigh as she unzipped the zipper. She moved her hands to the waistband, but Harry beat her to it, quickly tugging his jeans off and kicking them to the floor.

“That’s better,” he breathed out, settling back on top of Olivia, the thin material of their undergarments the only thing separating them. Harry weaved his fingers through Olivia’s hair, lustfully devouring her mouth. His tongue probed at her lips and she encircled his tongue with her lips, sucking gently. Harry groaned loudly, the sound muffled in Olivia’s mouth. She could feel him growing against her, and she pushed her hips towards him, grinding herself against his excitement.

“Shit,” Harry sighed, bearing down onto Olivia. She let out a loud moan, digging her fingernails into his back and wrapping her legs around his. He broke from their kiss, his hands exploring her sensitive breasts before inching his body down her torso and swirling his tongue around her left breast, agonizingly avoiding her nipple. Olivia shifted her position, attempting to get Harry’s mouth around her erect nipple. He caught onto her actions and looked up at her, grinning cheekily.

“Someone’s anxious,” he teased her, delicately tracing circles around her right nipple before gently rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Faaa…” Olivia moaned out, shuddering under Harry’s touch and unable to get the entirety of the word out. Feeling his mouth cover her tender nub, she arched her back and gripped the bedsheet. “Oh, God…” she groaned passionately as his tongue explored her breast. Careful to not play favourites, Harry kept his fingers pinched against her other nipple, lightly tweaking it as he suckled her left side.

“That feels… good…” Olivia managed to breath out, her exhilaration making full sentences a challenge. Harry let go of Olivia’s nipple, grinning up at her before flickering his lips back towards her mouth.

“Good,” he answered, his voice thick with lust. His moist mouth covered hers, insatiably consuming her. Their tongues fiercely danced, neither one able to devour the other as much as they desperately needed to. Olivia ran her hands roughly down Harry’s back, slipping her fingers under the elastic of his briefs. She tugged them down slightly, not breaking their kiss as she moved her hands to his front, reaching into his pants and wrapping her hand around his stiff length. It was warm, pulsating with eagerness. As her hands enveloped him, Harry broke their kiss with a gasp.

“Jesus,” he moaned, writhing under her touch. With her free hand, Olivia pulled Harry’s face back to hers, sucking on his lower lip before brazenly taking his hand and placing it between her legs. Her arousal was immediately apparent as he rubbed her folds through her panties. Olivia released Harry’s lip with a groan, bucking her hips against his hand.

His eyes, which had been squeezed shut with passion, popped open, and he stared down into Olivia’s eyes. He tugged on her panties, not breaking eye contact as he slowly pulled them over her bottom.

“Yeah?” he asked her, seemingly asking permission to continue with the course of events. Even in the throes of passion, he was still a respectful gentleman. Olivia let out a single chuckle, lifting her hips in response.

“Yeah,” she affirmed breathlessly, watching as Harry pulled her panties down, taking in her core. While still slightly bashful at her exposure, her arousal took over. She licked her lips as Harry examined her figure, checking her out from head to toe. He shook his head slightly at her, smiling bashfully.

“You’re… incredible,” he told her, sounding in awe. He braced his hands on either side of Olivia’s head, connecting his lips with hers once more before Olivia gently pushed him onto his knees.

“So are you,” she told him, looking up at Harry as she pulled his pants to his knees, fully exposing his manhood. He seemed as shy as she did, exposing himself for the first time to her. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head before reaching into the bedside table drawer, pulling out a small silver packet. Olivia leaned back on her elbows, watching him cover his package, the scene incredibly erotic to her.

 

Once protected, she wrapped her fist around his base, holding his gaze as she laid back, silently directing him to her opening. Harry braced his weight on his elbows, encircling Olivia’s head with his forearms. They held each other’s gaze as Harry slid into Olivia, his entry unhindered due to her own arousal.

“God…” Olivia moaned, feeling his member fill her. She shifted, angling her hips as her body adjusted to his girthy bulge. Harry pressed into Olivia slowly, easing part of himself into her before pulling out and repeating several times, taunting her. His movements were minimal at first, before increasing the power of his thrusts. He seemed to swell inside of her with each thrust, and she grinded her hips against his, rhythmically rocking together.

“Ohh… sweetheart, you feel good,” Harry groaned out, lifting himself from her chest in order to dive deeper into her. Olivia whimpered out an incoherent reply, wrapping her legs around Harry’s and grabbing at his lower back, madly aching for him to be deep inside of her. His pace quickened, and Olivia wondered if he was as pent up as she was.

He dropped back to his elbows, wrapping his arms Olivia and pulling her as close to him as he could. He drove himself into her with quick thrusts, causing Olivia to cry out with each plunge into her. Her own pace quickened, grinding her mound against him. She was so worked up from the attention he’d paid to her breasts, and the heat and excitement of the moment that she was already on the edge.

“Don’t stop, okay?” she panted against Harry’s mouth, not wanting the moment to end, but desperate for the release.

“Never,” Harry whispered back, grinding his hips against her tender clit before resuming his hasty thrusts. Olivia moaned, feeling the pressure inside of her build. Harry sensed her urgency and pushed hard into her with a guttural groan, vigorously pressing himself into her. He alternated between deep plunges and grinding against her, the variety pushing Olivia closer to her release.

“Finish with me,” Harry urged, his lips against Olivia’s. She arched her back, pressing herself against Harry, grinding with urgency and trying to keep the perfect friction. She grabbed his head and held his face to hers, breathing short moans against his lips and hearing his heavy breathing in her ear.

“Oh, God,” Olivia breathed, tightening her legs around Harry’s waist and bucking wildly against his shaft as her release began. She locked eyes with Harry, his eyelids hooded as his own release was imminent. He kept his tight grip on her, pumping feverously into her. Olivia’s field of vision swirled as she felt a quiver deep in her core. She could feel Harry’s arms tremble and knew he was as close as she was.

“Shit!” he groaned, breaking eye contact as his body twitched, uttering another loud groan as he tightened his grip on Olivia’s trembling body. She clutched his arms, her fingernails driving into his skin as she jerked and moaned against his cheek. With a final thrust, Harry groaned as he reached the fruits of their labours. Hearing his release, Olivia grinded against his twitching member, pulling him close to her as her body tensed before she shuttered into relaxation.

A few beats passed as the two of them attempted to catch their breath. After a moment, Harry propped himself back up on his elbows and looked down at Olivia. She stared back up at him, feeling as though they were looking into one another’s souls. She didn’t think she’d ever felt this close to someone and her emotions were tumbling through her so erratically, she didn’t know if she was about to laugh or cry.

“I…” he began, pausing as he finished the sentence in his mind. He smiled at Olivia, feathering her collarbone with light kisses.

“You’re amazing,” he told her instead, pushing her hair off of her damp forehead and smiling tenderly at her. “And I don’t mean just this,” he added, gesturing to the two of them tangled among the bedsheets. “I mean you,” he said, placing his hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat.

Olivia trembled at his touch and his words, unable to keep herself from kissing him. She rolled onto her side, their lips lazily connecting, without the hurried passion of two frenzied lovers. They didn’t need to rush. They had all the time in the world.

Hearing the thought run through her mind, Olivia’s stomach flip-flopped. No, they didn’t. Spring break was rapidly ending, and Olivia and Harry’s seedling romance would be nipped in the bud before it even had a chance to blossom. How was she supposed to leave him now?


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“How many do you have, anyway?” asked Olivia off-handedly, tracing her fingers lightly along Harry’s array of tattoos along his arm. Some of them were quite different, and she didn’t understand most of them, but having several herself, she knew they were usually a personal thing that weren’t for others to understand. She couldn’t help but wonder, however, if any of them were tributes to ex-girlfriends.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder at Olivia. The two of them were lying across his bed, sprawled out on their stomachs as they attempted to regain their strength after rounds one and two. As they hadn’t bothered recovering their clothes from the floor, Olivia was sure round three was imminent. And she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Oh,” he answered for himself, realising Olivia was speaking of his tattoos. “Erm… shit, like… over sixty, anyway,” he answered with a chuckle, rolling onto his side to peer at his arm. “Maybe more,” he added as a second thought. “They’re kind of addicting,” he said with a shrug, almost apologetically.

“Hmm,” Olivia mused, her hand finding its way down his torso. “These ones are my favourites,” she commented, outlining his fern tattoos along his hips with her fingers. “Especially the stems,” she added teasingly, her fingers lightly massaging below his navel, millimeters away from his manhood.

Harry chuckled at her coy movement. “Oh, those ones?” he asked innocently, jerking his hips up and reiterating his comment. His semi-flaccid bulge, barely covered by the light bedsheet, bumped up against her hand.

Olivia laughed. “Brat,” she told him affectionately, letting her hand lightly graze across him before kissing him softly.

“I’m just checking, sweetheart,” Harry teased back, gently grasping her by the chin and returning her kiss. He propped himself upon one elbow, touching Olivia’s side. “I’m partial to this one,” he told her, rubbing his thumb along Olivia’s side, where the silhouettes of five small sparrows flew. He focused on the one closest to her breast, his thumb meandering across the side of her chest.

“You’re ridiculously sexy,” he told her, sounding breathless and in awe of her sex appeal. “Why hasn’t anyone snatched you up?”

Olivia snickered at his comment. “Just waiting for you, I guess,” she quipped flirtatiously. The words hung heavy in the air after she spoke them. Her time with Harry didn’t make her any less single than she was before she met him. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Olivia didn’t expect them to. Holiday rendezvous didn’t turn into anything more than memories.

Harry smiled at Olivia but didn’t answer. His hand crept across her back, gripping her other breast and pulling her closer to him. He pressed a sweet kiss against her forehead, tucking a lock of Olivia’s hair behind her ear before resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad,” Harry murmured, and again, Olivia felt as though he has more to say. And again, Harry simply smiled at Olivia, keeping whatever thoughts he had going on in his mind to himself.

“You’ll have to apologize to your sister for me monopolizing all of your time here,” he added, uttering a chuckle, indicating he wasn’t sorry at all. “I really couldn’t help it,” he laughed, his hand reaching further under Olivia’s body and giving her breast a light squeeze.

“It’s okay… Neither could I,” Olivia confessed with a smirk, kissing Harry’s wrist teasingly.

“Did I wreck a lot of plans?” he wondered, fluttering light kisses along Olivia’s forehead and cheek.

“No,” Olivia answered honestly. Life at Stephanie’s house was chaotic but ran like a well-oiled machine, and despite being her guest, Olivia had to fit herself into the puzzle. “We’re going to Disney tomorrow, and I’d ditch you for that, anyway,” she told him, her tone light but her words serious. The best part about her brother in law playing hockey in Los Angeles was the easy commute to the Happiest Place on Earth. A visit to Stephanie’s home was never complete without a Disney day or two. She wished Harry could come with her, but had a feeling a crowded place like Disneyland was a place he avoided.

“I don’t blame you,” Harry answered, sounding distracted though impressively keeping the conversation going as he covered Olivia’s shoulders with his warm lips. “Disney’s pretty cool…” he added, his fingers finding Olivia’s nipple. He rubbed her sensitive bud between his fingers thoughtfully, his lips working their way north. He gently bit Olivia’s earlobe, causing her to utter a satisfied sigh.

“Mm-hmm,” Olivia breathed out, resting her head on her folded arms, enjoying the sensations flickering throughout her body. His stamina reminded Olivia why she found younger men so attractive.

“Are you just going for the day tomorrow?”

Shit. That was a question. Olivia could think of nothing but how good he was making her feel. She exhaled, replaying Harry’s question through her impassioned mind for clarification. “Uhm… two days,” she managed to reply. “Back late Tuesday.”

Harry stopped kissing Olivia’s back, straightening up. “Shit…” he commented slowly, puffing out a sigh. “I have to go to New York for a few days. Flying out on Tuesday night,” he added, sighing again. “But… I’m back Saturday afternoon, so…” he trailed off, sounding hopeful.

It was Olivia’s turn to pull away from Harry. “I leave Saturday morning,” she told him, almost incredulously. It took her a moment to realise this was the last time she’d be seeing Harry. She briefly entertained the idea of blowing off Disneyland with Stephanie and the kids, but despite how easy-going Stephanie had been about Olivia spending so much of her time with Harry, she would draw the line at Olivia backing out of the trip. Not to mention, something told her Harry wouldn’t let her either.

“What?!” he asked, sounding as incredulous as Olivia had. “I… I thought you’d be leaving on Sunday.”

Olivia shook her head at Harry. “No… early on Saturday,” she told him, attempting to discreetly swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“Fuck…” he commented quietly, angling his body closer to Olivia. She rolled onto her side, pressing her chest against his. Avoiding his eyes, she tucked her head under his chin. She didn’t want Harry to see how upset the revelation made her.

“Yeah,” she mumbled in agreement, hearing her voice waver. Harry heard it too, and responded by hugging Olivia tightly against his body.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Harry told her, his voice overly cheerful as he tried to reassure Olivia. “We’ll text, and call... Facetime… I’ll even let you send me naughty pictures,” he added, swatting his hand playfully against her bottom in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Olivia let out a short, humourless snicker. “Yeah,” she answered shortly. While the intentions were good – and maybe they would text, and call from time to time – it wouldn’t be the same as being curled up in one another’s arms, every inch of their bodies pressed together as they shared warm kisses. It wouldn’t be long before the efforts died down and one of them – and truthfully, Olivia suspected it would be Harry – found themselves in someone else’s arms, easily forgetting about the Spring Fling.

“We will,” Harry assured Olivia, hearing the uncertainty in her laugh.

“I agreed with you.” Olivia snapped, the cold tone of her voice surprising her. She let out a shaky sigh and looked up at Harry. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I just… don’t want to leave,” she confessed to him.

“I don’t want you to either,” Harry told her, brushing her brusque tone aside.. “I… I think I…” He trailed off; sighing quietly to himself as he tenderly massaged his fingers against Olivia’s bare back.

“You think what?” asked Olivia, silently willing him to tell her what he was thinking, and wondering if it was the same thing she was thinking. But what she was thinking was crazy, so it couldn’t be the same.

She heard him utter a laugh deep in his throat and felt his lips press against the top of her head. “Oh… nothing,” he answered vaguely. “Just… think I’m gonna miss you a bit…” He laughed, attempting to sound light but his words heavy with emotion.

“You are?” asked Olivia, smiling at his confession.

“Well yeah… of course I am,” Harry answered, sounding surprised. He exhaled softly as he continued to absentmindedly draw circles and shapes across Olivia’s back. “Can’t do this… or this… or this… with you so far away,” he told her, pressing his lips against her forehead, cheek and collarbone with each ‘this’ uttered. “Can’t do this either,” he added cheekily, grabbing her by the bottom and pulling her hips towards him.

“Is that all you’re going to miss?” wondered Olivia, knowing full well it wasn’t, but wanting to hear the reassurance from him.

“Course,” Harry answered sarcastically. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I’m just all about getting in your pants…”He pulled away from Olivia, propping himself up on one elbow as he studied her face. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, “you know it’s more than that.”

“I know it is…” she answered. “But then… but how can it be?” Her lips jutted out into a childish pout. She hadn’t wanted to bring up any of the “what is this” feelings she had – thoughts she’d had since the first night she met him - but they began tumbling out of her. “I mean, you’re here and I’m there. Sure, we can text and shit but… it’s kind of fruitless labour, isn’t it?”

Harry’s face twisted with confusion. “Why?” he asked, sounding dumbfounded. “I mean… I want to… and you want to. Right?”

“Of course I do,” she replied quickly. “It’s just… ugh, never mind,” she decided, waving her fingers dismissively. “Don’t worry about it…”

“No, no, no,” Harry told her, tipping her chin up and forcing Olivia to look at him. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Olivia sighed, blowing her bangs off of her forehead in frustration – frustration at the situation, and frustration at Harry for so easily being able to pick up on her girlish signals. She’d never met a man who could so simply realise when a girl was upset, and call her out on it. She’d learned that sometimes things were better left unsaid, and he didn’t make that easy. “It’s just... I mean, we’ll text a bit and stuff, but it won’t be long before you meet someone and forget all about the chick from Canada. How can I keep you interested when I’m not even here?”

“I really don’t see that happening,” Harry laughed. Olivia didn’t understand what was so funny about her voicing her concerns about keeping up an effort with Harry. She frowned at him, sitting up straight and criss-crossing her legs, keeping the sheet tight around her body.

“But what if it does?” she asked, blowing out a long sigh, aware as to how overly dramatic she was being, but being unable to ice it down.

“What if you meet someone?” Harry countered, propping himself up on an elbow and looking at Olivia expectantly.

Olivia scoffed loudly at Harry’s comment, snickering to herself. “That most definitely won’t happen,” she promised him.

“Why?” he pressed. “You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’re kind. Someone will notice you, and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“No, I won’t,” Olivia mumbled, looking down at her hands. It made sense to her that he would forget about her – he was an extraordinary man living in an extraordinary world. He could easily be distracted from her. Her from him, not so much.

“Hmm…” Harry pondered, rubbing Olivia’s knee through the thin sheet. “What would you say… if someone back home asked you on a date?”

“No one asks me on a dates.”

“Stop being a brat,” he scolded her. “I did,” Harry reminded her. Olivia rolled her eyes at him, but she supposed he was right. “Let’s say… someone really good and kind wants to take you out for dinner. He’s not one of those asshole guys, he’s a good catch. He’s smart and a gentleman and lives in your town. What would you say?”

Olivia was quiet. She knew exactly what she would say to the fictional man, but she was wary to admit her answer to Harry. “What do you want me to say?” she asked him with a long shrug.

“What do you want to say?” Harry countered her question with a question, annoying Olivia the same way she’d annoyed him at the beach. She smiled softly at the memory – the day easily being one of her top five best days of her life.

Olivia sighed, blowing her lips out. “I don’t want to say… unless it’s the same as you,” she admitted to him.

Harry laughed, pinching her thigh playfully. “Okay, ask me the same question then,” he suggested confidently.

“You’re annoying,” Olivia commented with a smile, but she obliged. “But… okay. So… you’re at this fancy pants party and this skinny, leggy model thing is buzzing like a bee around you. She’s super cute and laughs at all of your lame ass jokes” -

“Hey!”

\- “and lives in LA. She wants to go for dinner with you. What do you say?”

Harry rolled onto his back, tucking his arm under his head as he pretended to mull over Olivia’s scenario. “Hmm,” he began, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Well, first of all… I think the most important question, really… what’s a pants party?”

“Shut up,” Olivia sighed. Harry laughed loudly at his own joke before rolling back over again, pushing Olivia onto her back and settling himself atop her.

“You really want to know what I’d say?” he asked her, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. Olivia held his gaze, her heart racing. She almost said no, fearing the unknown, but she nodded.

“I’d say, thanks leggy model, but I’ve already got a super cute girl who laughs at all of my hilarious jokes,” Harry began, conveniently changing Olivia’s words around in order to come out better. “And she might live far away, but I don’t want to have dinner… or lunch, or breakfast, or snacks, or tea, with anyone but her. Cause… I’m kind of fond of her…” He paused, rubbing his thumb gently along Olivia’s lip, down her chin and back again.

“And… I hope she doesn’t want to eat food with anyone but me, either,” he added, laughing softly at his choice of words, but his eyes were wide, seeming timid by his declaration.

His testimony sent a flurry of fluttering through her stomach - she hadn’t expected him to respond so passionately. His eyes were shining and his dimpled smile beamed across his face.

“Really?” she asked softly, her own smile mirroring his.

Harry let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, really,” he promised her. “Stop being so doubtful, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” Olivia confessed. “I just… I don’t want to eat with anyone else either,” she told him, snickering at Harry’s choice of words. “But I… didn’t expect you to say the same,” she admitted to him.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…” Olivia paused, thinking over her words carefully. She wasn’t meaning to come off as a self-deprecating brat, but her feelings for Harry terrified her. They’d come on exceedingly fast and hard, and she was scared – not only about how strong her feelings could get, but how painful the aftermath could be.

“I’m just me,” she told him with a shrug. “I mean… you could date Taylor Swift if you wanted to, and…” She watched his eyes flicker as she mentioned the pop star’s name, and she just knew…

“You did date her, didn’t you?” Olivia realised, laughing lightly at the fact, and wondering how she was to compete against someone like her.

“Well… forever ago,” he admitted, sounding ashamed at the fact. “For a bit… It was stupid… and I’ll tell you… I didn’t feel like this. Not even close. Not ever,” he confessed quietly. He balanced his weight on his arms, his shining eyes exploring Olivia’s soul.

“I like that you’re you,” he told her earnestly. “I don’t care about your job, or your height, or where you live. I like you. Why is that so hard for you to get?” he wondered, sounding dejected as he rolled back onto his side, keeping his arms around Olivia.

“Because I’m scared,” Olivia told him, her voice nearly inaudible. “I’m scared… of liking you too much… and getting hurt, and I…”

“Sweetheart,” Harry mumbled, interrupting her with a kiss. Knowing it would be one of their last kisses, his honey-sweet peck inflicted pain on her, deep inside her core. Her heart ached for the boy against her lips, the only boy she ever wanted against her lips. “Remember when I said you could trust me?

“Yeah.”

“Trust me.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Come on,” Harry urged, his cheeky grin successfully distracting Olivia. “Chop, chop, Lollipop,” he teased, tapping his fingers impatiently against the coffee table. She rolled her eyes at him, snickering as his fingers tapped along the corner of the table before finding her hand and tickling her wrist. He snaked his fingers around hers, pulling her to him and smirking against her lips.

After rounds one and two with Harry, Olivia was on cloud nine. After the tension heavy “what are we” discussion, she felt as though the mood of the evening had been set. She had mentally kicked herself – it was their last evening together for who knew how long, and she’d set the pace for it being an incredibly awkward night. That wasn’t what she wanted. One of her favourite things about Harry was how goofy and fun-loving he could be. Lying in bed, swallowing emotional lumps as they wondered what tomorrow would bring wasn’t how either one of them wanted to spend the evening.

So when Harry – clearly feeling the same awkwardness Olivia felt –had off-handedly suggested a game Scrabble, Olivia quickly agreed – certain he was kidding, but hoped he wasn’t. He might have been, considering the surprised look he’d given her when she agreed. But Scrabble was one of her favourite games and while she thoroughly expected to dazzle Harry with her wits, she’d hoped the game would assist in moving past the self-deprecating, emotional part of the evening.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Harry continued, running his hand up her thigh, still working on distracting her. “I’m sure you can think of a word better than Dog. Maybe Tan?” he suggested, sassily teasing Olivia’s previous words.

Olivia scowled at Harry, examining her Scrabble tiles carefully. She started the game with a bang and used all of her tiles on the first word, but since then, she’d been lucky to get Apple on a double word square. Harry was easily pulling ahead, and Olivia couldn’t have that. No matter how adorable he was, she couldn’t let him win. Not when it came to Scrabble.

“Okay, shush,” she told him sternly, rearranging her tiles while he laughed at her seriousness. She had three I’s, an O, an X, a Q and a J – almost the worst hand imaginable. She knew she could put her Q down off of the I in Drift that Harry had put down, but it was a useless square and only got her eleven points. That wouldn’t help her beat the pants off him.

Though she would vehemently deny it, Olivia was a bit of a cheat when it came to board games. She was notorious for sitting on money during Monopoly, and whenever a tally score was required, she found herself adding a few extra tally marks here and there. She was the youngest child, competitive and a perfectionist to a fault. Scrabble was an easy one to cheat on – if someone challenged your word and were wrong, they lost a turn. Most didn’t want to risk it. She decided to use this to her advantage.

Carefully, she placed her J, O and X around the aforementioned I, resulting in the phony word Joix. “Okay, eight and eight, and two, plus double word… thirty-six,” she announced with a grin, scribbling the number on the score sheet and hoping she didn’t look like she was trying to cheat.

Harry furrowed his brow, looking at Olivia doubtfully. “That’s not even a word,” he told her, though she thought he sounded a bit uncertain.

“It’s the name of a plant in New Zealand,” she advised him, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. While normally a terrible liar, she felt as though Harry didn’t know her well enough to pick up on her fib. Still, the thought that he may pick up on her lie intimidated her, and she looked down at the board, carefully straightening the tiles.

Harry laughed loudly as she broke eye contact. “You’re full of shit!” he told her good-naturedly, rubbing her shoulder playfully.

“Challenge me, then,” Olivia told him, doing her best to sound confident. “You lose a turn, but…” She offered Harry a sassy shrug, silently willing him to move on and accept her word. She was a teacher. He should know better than to question her.

Harry was quiet, mulling over the stakes. Finally, he reached over and picked up the tattered Scrabble dictionary. Olivia wrinkled her brow, watching him, and hoping the word was miraculously real. He leafed through the book silently, running his finger down the page. Olivia could see his lips moving as he searched, the action incredibly cute to her. Finally, closed the book and tossed it aside, looking up at Olivia as he ran his thumb and forefinger along the sides of his mouth.

“Are you warm?” he inquired, his face stone.

Olivia gave Harry a weird look. “No, I’m totally fine..?” she assured him curiously, wondering why he was concerned about her temperature when Scrabble points were at stake.

Harry shrugged, clearing his throat. “I just thought that with your pants on fire, you might be getting a touch warm,” he answered, his face breaking into a triumphant grin.

Olivia groaned and exhaled loudly. “Ugh, come on!” she protested with a pout. “It’s in the Canadian book!” she added, still trying to convince him.

“You said it was a word from New Zealand,” Harry reminded her, carefully picking up Olivia’s three tiles and handing them back to her. “It’d be in this book,” he told her proudly, grandiosely gesturing to the cover of his dictionary, where it clearly stated ‘UK Edition’. “Queen’s English. Canada and New Zealand get that,” he added haughtily.

“I meant the US version,” Olivia corrected deceitfully, still attempting to maintain her points.

“Sure, sure,” Harry commented, delicately placing Zilch across the I Olivia had attempted to use, and managing to score thirty-eight unnecessary points. “Can you help me count this?” Harry asked, smiling charmingly at Olivia. “It’s rather high, and I don’t think I can do it by myself.” His cheeky grin normally would have melted Olivia from the inside out, but right now, she wanted to smack the handsome boy sitting beside her.

“Fuck off,” Olivia sighed, crossing her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Harry laughed jubilantly at Olivia’s immature pout. “Oh, oh!” he cooed, pretending to have a heart. “My poor sweetheart, being a sore little loser. Awww…” he continued dramatically, leaning over to kiss Olivia’s cheek. She quickly backed away from him, scowling before he could make contact with her.

“Get away from me,” she laughed, placing her hand on his cheek and pushing him away from her. Harry chuckled boastfully, crawling closer to Olivia and managing to plant a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

“It’s not about winning or losing, honey,” he reminded her, only sounding conceited because he was winning.

“Mm-hmm,” Olivia commented with another roll of her eyes, letting her lips find Harry’s and reciprocating his kiss. “I’m just letting you win, though, so…” she murmured against his lips.

“That’s why you haven’t crossed out your cheating points yet, right?” Harry asked smugly, grasping Olivia by the back of her neck and forcing his lips on her again. Olivia scoffed against Harry’s lips, pushing her hands against his chest.

“You’re so annoying!” Olivia pouted as she broke away from Harry, frowning at him as she exaggeratedly scribbled out her precious points, her frown deepening as he cackled proudly at her. She tried to seem annoyed, but truthfully, she was jubilant that they could have an awkward moment, share uncomfortable feelings and move past it. It reminded her of her mother’s favourite quote – mean what you say and say what you mean. If Harry hadn’t pressed Olivia to spill her feelings to him, she would still have the lingering doubts nagging at her for the rest of the evening, and her time with Harry would be spoiled. Was she still hesitant and fearful of the unknown? Without a doubt. But Harry asked her to trust him, so try as she might, she was going to.

“So that means it’s my turn again!” Harry announced, clapping his hands together gleefully. Olivia laughed at his actions; he resembled an excited child and was so adorable, it damn near killed her.

“Look at you, knowing the rules like such a big boy,” Olivia commented, her words teasingly chastising. She patted his hand affectionately, pretending to be proud of his accomplishment.

Harry snickered, taking her hand and pulled it towards his upper thigh. “If I was a dog, I’d make a comment about being a big boy,” he teased. “Good thing I’m a gentleman,” he said suggestively, letting go of Olivia’s hand and letting it drop against his manhood.

“Good thing,” Olivia agreed, laughing as she pressed her palm against him, gently gripping as she pulled herself closer to him. “You’re such a gentleman…” she mused, letting her lips dance across Harry’s. She clambered closer to him, pushing his back firmly against the front of the sofa. She let her lips linger gently against his, letting him get a taste of her before she nudged his lips apart with her tongue. He let out a satisfied moan, his tongue willingly waltzing with hers.

Harry spread his knees apart, allowing Olivia to settle between them. His hands tickled along her lower back, inching her body closer to his. He bit his lip gently, his eyes crinkling as he grinned against Olivia’s mouth.

“You’re just trying to distract me ‘cause you’re losing, aren’t you?” he asked teasingly. “My girl… you’re as transparent as glass.”

“Me?!” asked Olivia incredulously, enjoying the fluttering feeling as Harry pronounced her his girl. “You’re the one who just… forced yourself on me!” she teased him, though not releasing her grasp on him.

“I know you hate it,” Harry told her, attempting to sound sympathetic.

“Totally do,” she agreed, scooting away from him and flashing Harry a cheeky grin. “Best get to playing your next stupid word,” she advised, crossing her arms across her chest teasingly, advising that she was off-limits.

Harry pouted at her, shifting closer. “Maybe I don’t want to play anymore…” he mused, dragging his finger softly across Olivia’s collarbone and down her chest. “I mean… there’s no point, really…” he added, tracing crescents across Olivia’s cleavage. “I’m easily winning, so… you might as well forfeit…” He grinned at her before planting a kiss against Olivia’s dropped jaw.

“Put your freakin’ word down, you goof!” Olivia demanded with a laugh, not believing for one minute that he would let her forfeit the game. It was easy to tell that they were both ridiculously competitive, and while they may have won by default in their childhoods – “Gemma, he’s just little,”… “Stephanie, you can win next time,” – in their adult lives, they wanted to have the glory of winning organically – except Olivia, who would still boastfully accept a win accomplished by cheating.

“Fine!” Harry huffed out, leaning back against the couch and examining his tiles. He rearranged a couple before looking back up at Olivia. “Okay, how about this?” he asked. “The winner… gets to do whatever they want… to the loser… Deal?” he wondered, shooting an exaggerated wink in Olivia’s direction.

“You can’t set the stakes halfway through the game!” she scoffed, before thinking through what he’d offered. “Oh, wait…” She trailed off, replaying his suggestion in her mind, watching his dimpled grin spread across his face. Judging by the scorecard, the stakes were clearly in both of their corners.

“Okay, deal,” Olivia agreed, mimicking Harry’s grin. She stuck her hand out to him. “May the odds be ever in your favour,” she quipped, shaking his hand.

“They already are,” Harry quipped back, placing Kernel across the board, his K conveniently on a double letter score. “Fifteen, sweetheart,” he advised Olivia, tapping the scorecard and intently watching her, ensuring she write the right number down.

Olivia sighed dramatically, adding his score to the sheet, in painfully small penmanship. “You know… on second thought… I don’t think I’m gonna let you do anything to me,” she decided cheekily, knowing full well she would.

Harry snickered, stretching his legs out and enveloping Olivia with his calves. “Sorry, but you have to,” he told her innocently, not sounding sorry at all. “Unless you win, but…” He trailed off as he shrugged, gesturing to the board.

“I still might!” she argued, the fact that she may lose weighing heavily on her. She exhaled loudly as she rearranged her tiles, no decent words coming to her. She painstakingly continued to rearrange them, taking so much time to do so that Harry got up to use the bathroom, refill their drinks and bring out another bowl of the funky tasting veggie chips that Olivia was only eating because they were in front of her.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned loudly as he settled back against the couch, realising she still hadn’t played a word. “Don’t you just want to forfeit, sweetheart?” he wondered, combing his fingers through her hair. “I’ve got good plans for you, loser,” he added teasingly.

Olivia laughed distractedly, still trying to make a miracle happen. Finally, she sighed dejectedly and shrugged at Harry. “I think I have to trade them in,” she confessed sheepishly, pulling her tiles off the rack and laying them in front of her.

Harry echoed Olivia’s sigh, shaking his head disappointedly at her. “If that’s the best you can do…” he told her, holding the bag of tiles in her direction. “But,” he added, pulling the bag back towards him, “you have to put those in first,” he told her, gesturing at her discarded tiles.

Olivia gawked at Harry, shaking her head. “Uhm, no I don’t,” she corrected him. “I lay them face down… so you can’t see them… and I pick new ones… and then put them in!”

“Says who?”

Snickering in disbelief, Olivia gestured manically at the Scrabble board. “Uhm… like, all of the rules!” she exclaimed to him.

“No!” Harry countered, shaking his head defiantly at Olivia. “It’s the risk you take, putting them back in the bag!”

“The risk is no points, not the tiles I pull!” Olivia argued, scowling at Harry. She could handle someone calling her out on something when she was knowingly cheating – albeit with a bit of sass – but she knew she was right, and he was wrong, and she would fight it to the death.

“Stop trying to cheat,” Harry teased Olivia, bumping her leg playfully with his own. “It’s, uh… what’d you say earlier? A fruitless labour?”

“Shut up,” Olivia sighed, embarrassed at the comment though secretly pleased he remembered her rhetoric from earlier. “I’m not cheating! It’s the rules!”

“I’m sure it is,” he told her soothingly, grinning as he taunted her. “Honey, just call it. I want to give you your prize,” he added, smirking seductively as he grabbed Olivia’s hand and squeezing it.

As much as she wanted her loser consolation prize from Harry, she shook her head at him, pulling her hand away and grabbing her phone. “Nope!” she determined, her fingers flying across the screen. “You’re wrong! Just wait…” she mused, thumbing through the Google results.

Harry laughed, bemused by her attempts. “Are we having our first domestic over Scrabble?” he wondered, letting his hand softly graze Olivia’s back – in his mind, she’d already lost the game.

“Well, we wouldn’t be if you just knew the rules,” Olivia countered, pausing as she read one of the results. “A-ha!” she proclaimed triumphantly after a few moments, holding her phone out for Harry to see. “Hmm… can you help me read that, darling?” she gibed teasingly. “I can’t quite make out what it says… and you’re so smart, I’m sure you’ll get it,” she added, tickled that she found proof that she was right and Harry was wrong. It was almost as good as winning the game.

Harry read the text on the phone, scowling as he realised he was wrong. He sighed, gently pushing Olivia’s arm away from him. “Pick your stupid tiles, then,” he told her grudgingly, clearly not enjoying being proven wrong.

“With pleasure!” Olivia answered with a giddy grin. She carefully selected seven more tiles, and while they weren’t great, they were better than her last tiles. She managed to get a couple more double-digit point words, but when Harry used her discarded Q to play Niqab on a triple word tile, she was regretting discarding the tile.

“Well, shit…” Olivia commented after a solid effort, sighing as Harry used up the last of his tiles, leaving her with eight points on her rack. Not that it mattered – he was at least thirty points ahead of her. She sighed again, dramatically blowing her lips into a raspberry.

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms against her chest. “You win. Gloat away,” she told him, gesturing to the Scrabble board.

Harry grinned at her, picking up the score sheet. “I think I should get this framed,” he determined, chucking at Olivia’s pout. “Maybe blown up… It’d look good above the fire place, wouldn’t it?” He asked, enjoying taunting her.

“It’d look better in the fire place,” Olivia corrected, her pout still across her face. She abhorred losing.

Harry chuckled, balancing his weight on his knees as he leaned over Olivia. “Come here, loser,” he cooed, tugging on her dress strap. “Let me give you your silver metal…”


End file.
